


Three Kills

by Rehfan



Series: Safe House [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - Ian Fleming, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Angst, Attempted Murder, Blow Jobs, Come Shot, Dom Q, Drugged Sex, Frottage, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Masturbation in Shower, Murder, Mystery, Non Consensual, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Serial Killers, Sexual Fantasy, dead children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 40
Words: 23,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehfan/pseuds/Rehfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harbinger is destroyed and now Bond has been sent on a different mission. One having to do with a horrible discovery in a deserted area of an MI6 sub-basement. </p><p>Oh... and Q still doesn't know what Bond did for him. And if he did, he probably wouldn't like it very much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Berlin was as Bond remembered it. It was raining then too. The last mission that brought him here saw the rescue of three other agents and saved countless lives. Now Bond was back in Berlin to take a life.

Klaus Von Helm was the new name Henry Bath took for himself when he retired to Germany. Why he didn't just move to Bali, Bond would never fathom, but each man to his own choices, he supposed.

He hunkered down in the alley and turned his collar up against the rain. It was going to be a long wait. Naturally, his mind drifted to Q. Sweet wonderful Geoffrey Boothroyd, Bond's quartermaster and new love of his life, was back in London, probably downing his first cup of Earl Grey and trying to find out the fastest way to get Bond back home and in their bed. They shared a few rooms in one of the sub-basements of MI6. They had to for now. Q was still in danger of kidnap from God only knew how many terrorist groups and governmental regimes because of the Harbinger project. Even though it was destroyed in total, the word had yet to get out thoroughly to all the nations of the world and until everyone knew that there was nothing to kidnap the genius for, he had to remain in the sub-basement, safe and secure.

The last twenty-four hours had been a bit of a blur to both of them. They had nothing but passionate sex for practically a full day. Of course, there were bouts of sleeping and eating, but in between there was the most passionate, slow lovemaking either of them had experienced. It was uncanny how they moved together so well, their hands fit together, their bodies slotted against one another; it was all meant to be, it seemed. Bond hoped it would last a lifetime. But of course, for an MI6 agent, a lifetime could mean just that day.

The doctors said Q would be able to walk for short distances on his own inside of the next few days. A pang of guilt went through Bond at not being able to help Q through the next week. He could tell that Q was very sick of being laid up in that wheelchair, his feet propped to the moon. The caning he suffered to the bottom of his feet caused severe bruising and stress fractures. But it had been three weeks since his injuries and Q was able to hobble short distances with only slight discomfort. Bond was proud of him for that.

Bond was always pleasantly surprised by Q's inner strength. He displayed it admirably when he fended off his first attacker and made a very brave show of it when he suffered a beating at the hands of Murphy. His bruises faded and his feet were healing, but Bond couldn't get past what Murphy had done to a man who had proved time and time again that he was as fierce as he was intelligent. How anyone could look into Q's eyes and not see that strength, that sharpness of mind...

A shiver went through Bond. He was getting soaked to the skin. He looked up at the surrounding buildings and saw an office to let on the second floor across from the entryway he was watching. He made his way to it and climbed the stair. No one was about so he picked the lock and let himself in. It was completely empty and he had a much better vantage point. As he removed his wet jacket and set it on the radiator to dry, he watched out of the window for Bath. He should have thought of this sooner. He would have loved to blame his lack of focus on Q and their lovemaking, but he knew it wasn't true.

Bond knew that he was not at the top of his game because of what he had done to Murphy in retaliation for him torturing Q. And when it came down to it, he couldn't bear telling Q what he had done. He didn't want to taint their relationship so soon after starting it. What he had done to that man was not part of a mission. It wasn't to gain information. It wasn't to coerce another into cooperating with him. It wasn't for any reason that would be considered within the bounds of proper behavior of an agent of MI6. He beat and tortured that man because he wanted to -- for Q. He was all vengeance and power and it felt good to do what he did and he hated himself for it and it killed him that he couldn't tell Q about any of it.

Bond snapped to attention. Below him a familiar face emerged from the building opposite and lit a cigarette.


	2. Chapter 2

"Target acquired," said Bond into his earpiece. "In pursuit."

"Understood, 007," replied Q and sipped his first cup of tea for the day. It was good to hear the agent's voice. The last words Bond had spoken to him were "Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it." and Q had replied with a crushingly predictable "You'd better." And that was it. So to finally hear his voice after all these hours of waiting for him to get into position, it was gratifying. Unfortunately for Q's pride, it had also re-awakened his need to care for Bond. He spoke carefully into his end of the comm system: "Be careful. He may be old, but he was trained the same way you were. He can spot a tail a mile off."

"Yes, I know," said Bond, a bit miffed at the implication that he wasn't aware of his target's skills. He put his coat back on, made his way back down the stairs, and followed the man in the rain through the streets of Berlin.

"Just making sure you were being cautious," said Q defensively. "You have a tendency to leap before you look."

"Yes, thank you, mother," said Bond, thoroughly annoyed now. "Any other sage advice you'd care to give me before I take his life?"

Q thought a moment. "No. No. That was it," he said. "Good luck, 007." He went into comm silence and let Bond get on with it, watching a live satellite feed of the streets of Berlin in the approximate place Bond was stationed. He couldn't tell which person was which. He could only tell the vague colors of the cars as they passed along the road and people were reduced to nondescript splotches along the pavement.

"Turning left onto Zimmerstraße," said Bond.

"Got you," said Q, tapping lightly on the keyboard to shift the map on the main screen.

"He's gotten into a cab," said Bond. "Heading west. I'll keep you appraised."

"Very well," said Q. "I'll be here." Q sipped his hot tea and waited. It pained him that he couldn't do more for Bond on this mission. For the first time ever, he almost wished he were a field agent. He had become so protective of Bond in just a short amount of time. It was uncanny. And more than a little disturbing. Considering their jobs and the high level of risk for a field agent, Q knew that someday he would be on the receiving end of some very bad news regarding agent 007. Worse than that, the greater possibility was that he would get the news first hand. Most likely he would hear Bond gasp his last over the comm.

Q shook the thought away and tried to concentrate. The waiting was the tough bit. Anything could happen when an agent was tailing a target - especially if that target was trained to spot a tail. Q stared at the map and willed Bond to be alright.

Q vowed that when Bond got home, he would give him a thorough inspection... just to be sure.


	3. Chapter 3

"What can you tell me about the building I'm standing in front of?" Bond gave Q the exact address. It was an older 3-storey building made of brick and stone. There was a guard at the far wall behind a reception desk in a rather spacious lobby and he looked armed but was corpulent. Bond could easily give him the slip running through the building or charm his way past the guard, but this was an ex-MI6 agent he was going after. This could not be done in a straight forward manner and the more information he had as to his whereabouts, the better prepared he would be to complete his mission. Of course, he could simply wait outside for Bath to come out, but would his loitering presence be cause for alarm? Bond had to know what was in that building.

"According to my information," said Q calmly, even though his heart had leapt at the sound of Bond's voice again. "What you are looking at is a private bank."

"I see," said Bond. So his loitering presence would be seen as suspicious. Bond kept walking, travelling around the building looking for a way in. It had to pass fire inspection, so there had to be a secondary exit or a fire door... There. Ahead of him in a blind alley was a fire ladder. But the alley wasn't so blind as all that. There was an exterior security camera trained on the fire ladder. It seems the bank people thought of every angle. But Bond had a trick or two up his sleeve.

He circled the building once again and came back to the front door. In perfect German, he asked the guard where the nearest post office was. He lied that he was running an errand for a new boss and it was his first day. He was a bit turned around. Laughing, the guard came all the way across the gigantic lobby and pointed in the opposite direction from which he had come, stating that it was two more streets up on the left. Bond thanked him and went back. As soon as he was out of eyeshot of the guard, he took off running for the alley, banking that the heavyset guard wouldn't be back at his desk in time to spot him attaching the false camera tip to the security cam in the alley. 

That particular technical item had proven its efficiency at MI6 when Murphy and his men had attached them to every external camera on the building. It was a bit embarrassing for MI6 to do the clean-up on that one, but they simply weren't looking for anyone to be foolish enough not only to break into MI6 but then NOT LEAVE. The camera tip Bond had connected transmitted a still image to the monitors inside of a completely empty alley and fire ladder, but Bond waited across the street from the alley just in case he was spotted.

After a few minutes of waiting, Bond was anxious. He needed to get Bath out of there. He needed to flush him out like a quail from a shrub. The fire ladder gave him a perfect idea. It was devastatingly simple, actually.

Bond saw that a window along the fire ladder had been opened a crack. He shook his head at how simple things were going for him. It was bound to get sticky soon after, though. That's just how his luck ran.

He came across the street and went into the alley, climbing the ladder and moving swiftly to the open window on the second storey.

Suddenly, Q was in his ear: "Bond, you're not thinking of breaking into a high-security private bank, are you?"

Bond paused on the first storey landing. "I was," said Bond. "But only for a bit. Why? Something up?"

"No," said Q. "Just making sure you were doing something foolish and reckless. Carry on."


	4. Chapter 4

Helmut was sick. He came to work sick and he was still sick when his secretary came in to get his signature on some documents. He signed them begrudgingly and as soon as she left, he placed his head on his desk for several minutes. He was warm. He shook with fever. He should not have come in today. Slowly, he picked up his head and moved his aching body to the window. He needed air. He opened the window a crack and as soon as he did, his phone rang.

"Yes," said Helmut. "Wad iss id?" His stuffy nose marred his usual precise speech. It was security downstairs. They wanted to know if everything was alright with his office. They detected the open window. Helmut bit back a frustrated curse and assured them that everything was OK, that it was he who had opened the window and that it would be he who shut it as soon as he was done getting some air and would they kindly allow him to please be left alone?

Security was happy to oblige and rung off.

Helmut sat heavily in his chair and with the cool breeze wafting into his office, he contacted his secretary telling her he was not to be disturbed and that if she wished, she could leave for her luncheon and take her time about getting back. Helmut knew that she always took her time about getting back from luncheon on a regular work day, so he knew that with his permission granted, he may not actually see her again for several hours. And that was just fine with Helmut. His whole body craved sleep and he tucked himself in on his office sofa and promptly gave his body what it wanted.

What Helmut would never expect to see would be a Secret Agent of Her Majesty standing over him watching him mere seconds after he had fully drifted off and making note of his feverish brow. "Shame," said Bond softly. Had he known, he would have let the man have his rest. But for what he had planned, he really didn't see that as being an option for him. Ah well.

Bond left the office and walked through the reception area. No secretary. This was all too good to be true. He swallowed past his dread and moved to the corridor. This was relatively quiet, only one woman in a business suit was coming toward him, her arms laden with files. She gave him a shy smile. He winked at her and moved on.

He got in the lift, being careful to keep his head down. The camera in the corner would spot him instantly anyway, but he didn't want to tempt fate. He felt he was already living on borrowed time with this mission.

He got off on the main floor and here was activity: several people were at several desks discussing several things with several people. Out of the corner of his eye, Bond noted Bath's presence in a private office surrounded by windows. He was tempted to follow, but knew that he couldn't do anything here. Instead, he moved swiftly to the main exit which was opened for him by a very bored-looking guard. The corridor beyond bottle-necked and then expanded out to form the gigantic lobby. Off to his right were restrooms and Bond pulled the fire alarm as he walked smoothly into the men's.

The blaring alarm took everyone by surprise and there was a mass exodus for the main doors. Bond stood before the sinks and calmly washed his hands, drying them, and then tossing the paper away, listening to the din outside. Eventually he moved toward the exit with the crowd of excited bank personnel and customers. He noted that Bath was just ahead of him and he took out his knife, palming it carefully. The corpulent front desk guard was bent over at the main doors trying to release the catch on the double door and only looked up when a woman screamed.

As the crowd parted and dissipated, it was clear what had caused the upset: Henry Bath was dead on the floor of the grandiose lobby of the private bank.

Across the street, Bond watched the pandemonium for a moment before walking away.


	5. Chapter 5

"Are you alright?" asked Q nervously. "Are you sure you're alright? You weren't spotted? Because if you were spotted and the local authorities - or worse yet Interpol -"

"Q..." said Bond in as calm a voice as he could muster. Q seemed practically hysterical. "Q..."

"- get involved then we're up a tree. Please tell me that you weren't-"

"God damn it, Geoffrey!" said Bond.

There was silence on the comm.

"I'm fine," said Bond. "I'm packing my things and checking out now. The local news has confirmed that an unknown assailant has murdered Klaus Von Helm. Suspect descriptions don't even come close to matching me. All's well. Now will you kindly calm down and tell me when my flight leaves Berlin?"

More silence over the comm.

"One hour," said Q. "You land in London in two and a half hours."

"What?" said Bond.

"I need to see you," said Q.

"Q... um... Is it really necessary?" said Bond. "We are in the middle of a mission here, Q."

"Your flight brings you through London with a three hour layover," said Q, ignoring his question. "Meet me at the Hilton near the airport. Room 4522. Ninth floor. You'll have plenty of time before your next flight out."

Bond couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Are you serious?" he asked. Surely there were others monitoring this call. If Q was sitting in Q Branch as he suspected, he was having this conversation in front of many different people. Was Q actually wanting to have a rendezvous at an airport hotel? This was far more than unprofessional - even by Bond's standards. "You can't be serious."

"I am. Completely," said Q. "Now do as you're ordered, 007."


	6. Chapter 6

As he made his way to the ninth floor, Bond had his doubts. Q was usually the consummate professional, but since they had begun a (what was it exactly?) a - sexual relationship, Bond saw Q's concerns for him in a slightly tainted light. It wasn't that he minded so much. He actually thought the attention sweet. No, it was more that there was always the danger of others discovering what was going on between the two of them. No one said that they knew, but Bond suspected Moneypenny had an inkling - after all she's the one who set up their sub-basement accommodation. Bond also thought that M had put two and two together. The only other person who had even the slightest knowledge was 004 who had left him alone to take care of Murphy and who had also seen some of the results from Bond's ministrations on the mercenary. 

Anyone having knowledge of his relationship with Q could be a potential threat to this or any future mission. Q couldn't and wouldn't remain on lock-down in MI6 indefinitely. For now, he understood the implications, but he wouldn't put up with it for long; Bond knew that much about the man.

As he walked down the corridor to the proper door, his heart filled with dread. It was the middle of the night and Q was supposed to meet him here, but he was in protective custody. How could Q meet him? Perhaps he would send Moneypenny? That would make him feel better. Bond hoped that Q was that forward-thinking so that Bond could get on his flight for Canada and not have to be concerned about Q making it back safely to MI6. He opened the door with his key and stepped into the room.

It was a standard hotel room: there was a lamp lit over a small table in the corner and a large king bed dominated the room. Bond's heart leapt and then his gut twisted when he saw Q leaning against the dresser, arms crossed. Bond thought he looked good, but now he was going to be sick to his stomach worrying about how Q got here and whether or not he could get back alright. He stamped the rising worry down and returned Q's smile.

"Hello, Q," said Bond.

"007," said Q standing to greet him with a warm hug. "Let me look at you. Just as I suspected: not a hair out of place."

Bond grinned at him. "I could say the same about you. And look: you're standing on your own two feet. How do you feel?"

"They're still a bit tender, but I'm pushing through," said Q. "Now then, to business." Q turned and walked to the table under the light. He passed his hand over an envelope, a tube of toothpaste, and a small box of aspirin powder packets, touching each as he spoke. "Ticket to Canada, Semtex explosive in the tube, and headache medicine. Put them in your bag and have them ready for inspection at Heathrow. Our man will be waiting for you to let you through security. Everything's been arranged. Also you should know: the next one's expecting you. No doubt Von Helm's death made it onto Morgenstern's radar as the one supported the other financially. Morgenstern was a bit of a gambler and bit off more than he could chew a few years back. Von Helm was looking out for his old colleague."

"Could they have been in cahoots regarding the murders?" asked Bond. 

"We don't think so," said Q.

Bond looked at the table. He would put the items in his bag shortly, but he still had one question: "And the headache powder?"

"Morgenstern has an allergy," said Q. "We thought it might be useful."

"And is that all, Q?" asked Bond, his old fear returning. If they were parting company, Bond would want to be the one to deliver Q back to MI6. It was the only way he would be able to sleep on the plane.

"There is one more thing, 007," said Q. Suddenly, Q gripped Bond by the lapels of his jacket and kissed him passionately.


	7. Chapter 7

Q pushed Bond onto the bed and fell on top of him, kissing him deeply. When they finally broke for air Bond said, "You tart. I knew you couldn't resist a meeting in a hotel room."

Q gave him a wicked grin. "Take your clothes off, 007. I want to inspect you."

Bond raised an eyebrow. "Inspection? Have we got time for this?"

Q hummed an affirmative against the skin of Bond's neck, slowly opening his mouth to suck and lap at the tender flesh. Bond closed his eyes and felt the heat spread to his groin. Where Q was laying on him, he could feel the other man's erection through his trousers. This was definitely going to be a quickie.

"I can't undress unless you get off," said Bond, flipping Q over onto his back. He gave him a quick parting kiss as he divested himself of his clothing. In record time he was naked before his quartermaster.

"Stand there," said Q. "In the light. I want to have a proper look at you." Bond did as he was told, his erection prominent. Q walked around him and let his eyes caress every inch of the agent. Bond would involuntarily jump whenever a cool fingertip was placed against his skin: now at his back, then against his ribs, along his collarbone, down his stomach, along his arm, across his shoulders, until a hand was carding through his hair starting at the nape of his neck. When that hand grabbed at the short strands at his crown, Bond felt gooseflesh spring up all over and his cock hardened even more.

"Do I pass, Q?" said Bond. Q's wicked grin returned and he nodded silently. "So what-" Bond's next question was cut off by a finger across his lips. That finger traced a line down the center of Bond's body: chin, throat, hollow, breastbone, stomach, navel. Until finally, teasingly, tortuously, those cool fingers threaded through the hair above his straining dick, never actually touching his penis. Bond's breath hitched, but he remained silent and motionless. His self-control was to be admired. A lesser man would be rutting the air looking for any kind of friction to satisfy such a needy prick as Bond was nursing.

Q watched Bond's pupils blow wide and felt powerful. For the first time in a long time, he felt in full control of this entire situation. He wanted that power. For too long he had been without it, or had only been given some power just for that too to be taken away from him. He was done. He needed to dominate. He needed Bond to obey him. When they were just starting out and this urge to dominate came over him, Q would feel a pang of guilt about it. He never wanted to have Bond be his slave, his inferior. Rather, he wanted Bond to take his orders because he wanted to be ordered. He wanted Bond to want to be dominated.

But things had shifted for them both since those first few days. They had feelings for one another that they had never really formally stated, but they had acknowledged just the same. Bond would do as Q ordered him. And Q knew he didn't have to feel guilty about it at all, because Bond cared for him and wanted to please Q.

So it was with great pleasure that Q unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, exposing his erect prick to a very appreciative Bond and said: "On your knees, 007. Your quartermaster needs tending to."


	8. Chapter 8

"Of course, Q" said Bond, obliging his quartermaster's orders. Getting to his knees, he took Q's cock in his mouth, letting the head slip past his lips gently and tonguing the frenulum as it passed.

"Good man," said Q. "You do want to swallow for me, don't you?" Q had missed James. The man had only been gone two days, but there had been a void. And there were so many things about him that he never wanted to forget: the way the light caught his hair in the sun, the glint in his eyes when he was in a teasing mood, the turn of his hands whenever Bond reached for him. But now all Q could focus on was how fucking good it felt to have James' hot mouth on his cock.

Bond sucked and hummed appreciatively, glancing up occasionally to wink at Q and let the head of Q's prick stretch out his cheek in the most lascivious way. Q had to grin at the agent's cheek - in both senses of the word. Even when he was under orders, you always felt as though Bond would find a way to showboat. Here he was, a man with a license to kill, sucking the dick of his quartermaster and he still manages to slap Q's arse, causing Q to cry out and thrust his hips forward into that wet warmth, nearly choking Bond in the process.

Bond chuckled low in his throat watching Q's reaction to that. And Q, between the slap and now the chuckled humming, he was losing his shit fast. His mouth hung open, his eyes were closed: he was the very picture of ecstatic abandon. He panted, his breath coming in time with the gentle thrust of his hips as he felt Bond's tongue run circles around his head and along his shaft. He carded an appreciative hand through Bond's hair. "So good, James," he whispered. "So fucking good."

Bond hummed again and sucked harder, his head taking on a faster bobbing pace. He wanted to suck Geoffrey dry. He wanted to bring him to the brink and watch him tip over the edge and taste him as he spilled into his mouth. And in the end, he wanted to lick him clean, savoring the taste of his lover.

Q was careening toward the precipice even as Bond pondered its possibilities. He felt his balls tighten and knew he was close. He tried to warn Bond, but for all his stuttered "J-james.. ple- please... so c-close... shit...." he couldn't for the life of him form a cohesive sentence. It was Bond's low hum of acknowledgement that took him. He swam in his orgasm. His hips shook involuntarily with each burst of cum. He cried out a strangled version of James' name, head tilted back, hands clutching at Bond's hair. "Take it, James," he shouted. "Take it all. Fuck!"

Bond swallowed reflexively, fervently enjoying the look of Q's orgasm. Bond pulled Q's cock from his mouth, licking at the remnants of his ejaculate. He stood and kissed his breathless quartermaster, blending his taste with the cum already on his lips. Q weakly wrapped his arms around Bond's naked torso as he allowed Bond to hold him. Bond broke the kiss and buried his face in Q's neck, slowly kissing and nibbling around his throat.

"Are you satisfied, my quartermaster?" he murmured against his skin.

"More than you know, 007," said Q. "You are a very obedient operative."

Bond pulled his head back and said, "I don't know if you've noticed, Q, but I am also a naked operative." He looked down at his neglected erection and raised an eyebrow. "And an aroused one at that."

"We should do something about that," said Q.


	9. Chapter 9

"On the bed," said Q. "On your back." Bond looked surprised and pleased. He lay on the duvet and propped a few pillows under his head, watching his quartermaster intently. Q tucked himself back into his trousers, straightened his clothing, and rolled up his sleeves. Regarding Bond's lithe naked form he very seriously instructed him: "Stroke off for me, Bond. I want to watch you."

Bond raised his eyebrows but remained silent. He licked his palm and took himself in hand, stroking slowly. He hadn't masturbated in a while and while it usually brought him temporary relief from any stray erotic thoughts, he never felt as fulfilled as when he was actually having sex with someone else. Masturbation seemed to lack a certain something for him. This experience was proving to be the opposite of lacking. The element of voyeurism was added to the mix as a very stern and serious Q, still flush with his earlier release, stood over him, arms crossed, and watched him wank.

At first, Q just watched the expression on Bond's face. He went from mildly surprised to full-blown aroused in the space of two strokes of his dick. After a bit, Bond seemed to be going a bit lackluster. Q decided to concentrate then on what he would be doing to Bond's cock if he were the one stroking him off. "Slow down and lighten your pressure," he instructed, speaking in much the same way as he would give map instructions to an agent caught in a building: his voice was even, calm, and because it was Bond naked before him -- almost imperceptibly smoky. Q's orgasm was still fresh in his body, so there would be no participating for his own cock, but he could still feel the heat spread south as he saw Bond follow his guided instruction.

"That's it," said Q, watching the hand move to his command. His pink tongue darted out to lick at his lips for a moment as he concentrated. "Now cup your balls gently... good man. How does that feel?"

Q raised his eyes to Bond's face. The man said: "So fucking good, Geoffrey." But honestly, he needn't say a word; the look on his face was evidence enough that he was lost to this new kind of erotic play.

Q smiled at him and trained his eyes back on the hard cock before him. He imagined the cum that would pour forth from it, trailing over Bond's hand and even spattering his abdomen. That's what he wanted. And he would have it too. Slowly he turned around and walked to the bathroom tossing a "keep going" behind him as he went. When he came back, he held a small bottle in his hands: lotion. "Here," he said, opening the cap and offering to pour the contents into Bond's hand. The palm was proffered and a dollop of white creamy liquid dripped into its hollow.

Bond's breath stuttered with the new-found sensation. This was much better. Worlds better. And he owed it all to his beautiful Geoffrey. "Th-thank you," stuttered Bond. He was going to cum soon if this kept up. The head of his cock was glistening and slick sucking sounds were being produced by his actions. All the while, the grave sweet eyes of Q stared over him, taking in every ripple of muscle, every bend of joint, every bead of sweat.

Bond wanted Q to see him like this: vulnerable, wanting. It was a gift he wanted to give him. He wanted to cum for him in the worst way imaginable. The thought of cumming for Q was almost overwhelming and it consumed his every thought. All his efforts were directed toward it. Without being told, he massaged his balls and felt them tighten. "Fuck your fist, James," said Q. It was barely a whisper. Q seemed entranced. Bond brought his hips up to meet his hand and the bed shook with his efforts. His other hand flew from his scrotum to the duvet and clutched for leverage and purchase as he pounded himself into his fist as Q commanded.

James wasn't routinely vocal during sex. It just wasn't something he did. But staring into those dark green eyes brought something out in him that he couldn't deny or keep in check. His cry of "Geoffrey!" and the repetition of the name as he came was as necessary to him in that moment as breathing is to every human on the planet. His ejaculation was spectacular: cum spattered not only his abdomen and coated his hand, it flicked against his neck and face as well.

Moments later, Bond's body was wracked with post-orgasmic seizures and Bond closed his eyes willing his body to calm itself and knowing his efforts were useless. Where warm wet cum cooled on the skin of his neck, he felt Q's mouth on him, licking it off. Bond kept his eyes shut and let Geoffrey do as he wished. Soon there was hot breath on his ear: "You've done very well, 007. Now get to Canada and kill that pesky serial killer, will you?"

"I'll miss you too, Q," said Bond, eyes still closed as he heard the door to the hotel room open and close. Q was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

As Q promised it was all arranged: Bond's flight went without a hitch and he hit the ground running in order to make it to Morgenstern's remote cabin. He lived near a small mountain village, but up on the side of the mountain in a remote cabin. His home was only accessible by one mountain road or by skis or snowmobile. Bond chose skis. It was a 20-mile cross-country ski journey from one side of the mountain (where there were a dozen or so ski trails used by enthusiasts) to the other side (which was privately owned by Morgenstern), but Bond was up for it. He was determined to make it home to Q. Once this man was assassinated, he had only one left and that target was in MI6's back garden: Scotland.

Bond never raised an eyebrow from anyone at the ski lodge store when he purchased all the skiing and camping equipment he thought he needed for the trek. He would ski out, reconnoiter, and then make his move the next day. He knew Morgenstern was expecting him. He also knew that the man was a well-trained operative. He was also the youngest man on the list, opting for early retirement when he was only fifty-five. He must have known something about those serial killings. He was on MI6's list all those years ago as a suspect, but nothing was ever done because no one could ever gather enough proof. But the bodies of those children needed to be dealt with and, as a consequence, all loose ends needed to be tied up. It was up to Bond to do the deed. And in the end, he wanted to do it; not to help cover up MI6 cock-up - which was in essence what he was being sent out here to do - but more to bring justice to all those little ones and their parents. And if that meant killing off the only three suspects MI6 had at the time, then that was exactly what he would do.

Plus, Q felt strongly about it. His sense of justice was unwavering and Bond smiled at the thought of a vindicated Q standing triumphant before him. He warmed to the thought of laying back in his lover's arms and reporting a job completed. All the babies could be buried with finality and the whole affair would be considered closed.

Bond sighed and sat in his pup tent that evening, shivering with the cold. His sleeping bag and equipment helped him survive the night and at dawn's first break, he packed everything and headed out to the cabin, his breath creating fog in the air.

It was a lonely trek and an even lonelier destination: the cabin was log-cut and one storey, judging from the outside. It was dominated on the back side by a prominent chimney and had a small front porch which would provide a generous and glorious view off across the mountains. There were two small windows in each side of the building. They and the one front door provided the only means of egress or ingress. There was also a small shed with a double door at the back of the building which probably served as extra storage. A cord and a half of wood was neatly cut and sitting against the shed, covered with a tarp. There was smoke coming from the chimney when Bond skied up to face the building.

He popped off his skis and bent down to pick them up just as the front door of the cabin opened. A formidable man stood in the frame with a shotgun at his hip. "Are you here for me?" he asked.

"You know I am," said Bond.

The man squinted. "You look like a fucking tourist, mate," said he. "Are those togs new?"

Bond looked down at himself. He really did look like a fucking tourist. He couldn't help but smile. He looked back at the man and answered: "I do look a right git, don't I, Mr. Morgenstern?"

Morgenstern lowered his gun and shook his head. "Come on," he said. "You can at least get warm and have a drink before you kill me." And with that he disappeared into the cabin leaving the door open.


	11. Chapter 11

"What the hell is going on?" Q burst into M's office. He was not happy. It had been three days since Bond had left for Canada and things had gone a bit tits up. Q wanted desperately to hear back from Bond, but he was completely incommunicado.

"Calm down, Q," said M, motioning toward a chair. Tanner was in the office as well. He had attempted to beat Q to M's offices. M was irritated. It was like he was running a bloody kindergarten.

"I will not calm down!" said Q emphatically. "Will you kindly tell me why Tanner has taken over logistics for Bond's assignment? I was posted on that detail specifically. I saw what was in that room. I'm the one that demanded justice for those children. Hell, M, you didn't even KNOW about the bodies until I told you! You were completely unaware of the killings. And this is, what? Some kind of punishment? What is the meaning of this?"

M waited patiently for Q to finish. Turning to Tanner he said: "Go back to Q Branch and run the op. Find Bond. I'll talk to Q." Tanner nodded curtly and left. M sat on the edge of his desk and sighed wondering where to begin. Just then, Moneypenny walked in carrying a tablet. She handed it to M and turned to go, giving Q a sympathetic glance as she went.

"Hold it," said Q to Moneypenny, "You know something. You're staying. You two are both going to tell me what's going on here."

Moneypenny looked at M. He nodded and she closed the door and sat in one of the visitor's chairs. Q took the other and waited for M or Moneypenny to start talking.

"First of all," began Moneypenny, "I just want to say that I'm worried about Bond as well. I want him home as much as you do." She glanced worriedly at M.

"Yes," added M, "We all want him home. And we (Moneypenny and I) know that you want him home for more personal reasons."

So they knew. Q was a bit relieved at that. Still he asked, "Is this why I've been pulled? Because of our relationship?"

M and Moneypenny exchanged glances. "Yes and no," replied M.

"Well then?" asked Q "What is it?"

"We've been provided with intel, Q," said M.

"Yes?" said Q. What the fuck was going on here?

"Intel that puts Bond in a light that may upset you," said M.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains somewhat vivid descriptions of a mutilated corpse. Possible triggers ahead.

"What in hell are you talking about?" asked Q. He was at his wit's end.

M sighed again and called up something on the tablet. "004 followed Bond on this assignment. Her part was to hang back in case Bond needed assistance. But I also asked her to monitor Bond."

"Monitor Bond?" asked Q "Whatever for?"

"You mean he didn't tell you?" asked Moneypenny.

"Tell me what?" asked Q.

Again M and Moneypenny exchanged worried glances. M typed on the tablet again. "I should show you this first then," said M. Before handing the tablet to Q, he pulled it back and added:; "I should warn you that the images in this file are pretty damn gruesome."

Silently Q took the tablet and scrolled through the sixty or so postmortem photographs. They were indeed quite gruesome. The mutilated body before him was a bloody indistinguishable mess what with all the Taser burns along the victim's torso, bruises throughout the body, the swelling of hands, feet, and face, broken bones in the arms, legs, hands, and feet, torn ears - one of them ripped completely off, and plucked-out eyes that dangled by their retinas. There were also photographs of a foreign object protruding from the victim's anus: it appeared to be the broken end of a broom handle, but it was difficult to tell as it was covered in blood. And then it struck him as to what that wooden dowel actually was.

Q scrolled back past all that hideousness and disfigurement to look at the picture that gave more detail of the face of the corpse. Past the swelling and the bruises and judging by the color of the iris of the one eye he could sort of see, Q realized that the human that had once inhabited this body was Terry Murphy, the man who had held him captive and forced him to type the Harbinger code. This was the same man who had broken both his feet with that exact same dowel; the man who had made his life a living hell strapped to a chair and forced him to watch the torture of James Bond among other agents. He had been murdered.

No.

He had been taken apart.

Q looked at M and Moneypenny helplessly. "Not James," he half-asked.

Moneypenny began to quietly cry, a tear falling down her face as she hung her head. M simply looked at the floor and nodded.


	13. Chapter 13

The silence was deafening. Q swallowed past the building lump in his throat and finally managed: "So you sent 004 after him to monitor his behavior." M nodded. "And you were going to show me something before you decided to show me this. What was it?" Q passed back the tablet to M.

M took it and silently called up the video that 004 had sent off. The images had a green glow of night vision and showed the interior of what had to be Morgenstern's cabin bedroom. Two figures were clearly having sex. Rather hot sex.

Q watched in silence as the two men fucked and kissed and fondled each other. It was slowly done, and there was a distinct sensuality about it. One of the men was clearly Bond. The other was obviously Morgenstern, but that was just Q's guess as he had only ever seen pictures from the man's time in MI6 all those years ago. The file had audio, but it was turned down. Q thought he heard James say something. He backed up the film and turned up the volume.

"Oh God... I love you... shit... I love you..." said James as he allowed Morgenstern entry over and over and over again.

"Q..." began Moneypenny. The tears were still in her eyes.

Q stopped the film and stood up, handing the tablet to Moneypenny. "I've seen enough," he said.

"Geoffrey," said Moneypenny again.

"No," said Q, holding up a hand to stop any further conversation. "It's fine. I see now why you want me off this case. You think I can't be objective." He looked at the two of them expecting an argument and getting none. He nodded to himself. "And perhaps your right. But the thing is: this isn't about me. This is about an assignment. I can focus enough to get Bond the equipment he needs for the third assignment and that's what I'll do. Then I'm going home." He brought up his head and straightened his posture. "I'm recusing myself from the case. You don't have to do it for me. Only do me a favor: when Bond completes this mission, let me know. I'd like to speak to him." He walked to the door and opened it. Before leaving, he added: "And send those photographs on to me. I want to have another look at them and the coroner's reports as well, if you don't mind."

This time is was M's turn to object: "Q..."

"No," said Q. "Really. I want them. All of them. Send them along. I'll be in Q Branch for the next few hours if you need me. Thank you for telling me."

Q made it as far as the lift before he lost control, sank to the floor, and wept openly.


	14. Chapter 14

Q's lapse of control was momentary, just enough to give his heart some relief. He would be better once he got back to Q Branch and put together the weapon Bond would need for his Scotland assignment. He recovered himself from the floor of the lift and made his way down the corridors to a quiet station so that he could access the armory inventory and see what he had to work with. This task should have only taken him minutes, but he was too upset to focus properly. It got so bad that at one point, the system logged him out. Cursing under his breath, he logged himself back in and assigned the best weapon to Bond. He signed off, got up, gathered his things, and left Q Branch.

The sub-level flat he and Bond had been occupying was a welcome sight at first. But after a few quiet moments the walls just seemed to close in on him. Q needed air. It was a bit of a security risk, but he removed himself from the sub-level and went up. The lift doors opened on street level and he almost stepped out. It would have been simple to just leave MI6. He was one corridor and three doors away from the outside world. But he knew it still wasn't safe. Word about Harbinger's destruction hadn't had sufficient time to spread around. Q stared blankly at the lift buttons before pressing one he knew was the safest compromise: the top floor.

As soon as he gained access to the roof, he inhaled deeply, practically running out and almost falling over the edge. The sun was setting over London. The view was amazing, but Q never noticed. He was too busy bracing himself on the rampart. He kept his head down and cried until his knees gave out.

There was no getting over all the images that were spinning in his head: split-second snippets of the gruesome brutality performed on Murphy flashed in his mind. Those pictures contained some of the most repulsive acts he had ever had the misfortune to view on another human being. But honestly, if he were capable, Q would have probably done the same. The bastard had tortured him and considering Murphy's personal history, he rather deserved a "hell on earth" sort of departure from this world. Q was only upset that he hadn't heard about all this from James himself. Why didn't he think he could hear about it? As far as Q had thought, Murphy had died from an odd bullet wound received when Bond came through ahead of the others to get him out. He should have known better. This was Bond after all.

He sat on the roof, his back to the rampart, and tried to gain control over his stuttering breath. He wiped at his cheeks roughly with the back of one hand and noticed that it was shaking. He watched the tremor in his hand and decided that it wasn't so much the pictures that hurt him, it more that James didn't tell him what happened.

But then, there was the film. Q was certain that Bond was working an angle. It wasn't as if he hadn't had sex with targets before. It was part of the job, after all. Q was used to it. Before they had begun their relationship, Q used to roll his eyes whenever Bond delivered one of his cheesy lines of seduction. This was the first time since they had become a couple that Bond had fraternized with the enemy and it stung a bit to see him like that. But that still wasn't the problem. It was the words James had spoken in the heat of what was supposed to be fake passion.

In all those assignments, Bond had not once told the mark that he loved them. Never.

Q couldn't think of a scenario where this even remotely made sense. Even if he were drugged, he wouldn't say what he did. He wasn't that stupid.

Q wanted Bond home. He wanted him standing before him and explaining what went on in that remote cabin in the woods of Canada. But now he was off the case. He had removed himself from the assignment and all he could do was go back to their bed - it would always be their bed - and collapse in it and cry himself to sleep.

No. He couldn't do that. Obviously, Bond needed his help more than ever. And Q would be there. After all, helplessness was not really something he had grown fond of in the past few weeks.


	15. Chapter 15

004 sighed as she packed her things to leave. Tanner had passed on orders that she was to search for Bond. How she was going to do that was beyond her, but she had no choice. She zipped her bag and had just swung it over her shoulder when her mobile went off. "Yes?" she answered.

"004 listen carefully: I need the latest intel on 007 and I need it now. Tanner won't tell me anything and it's is a breach of protocol and security for you to tell me anything," said a voice.

"Then why should I tell you anything?"

"Because this is Q."

004 paused. "Aren't you already on 007's logistics team?" she asked.

"Was," he said. "I was removed from it thanks to 007's treatment of Murphy and your video footage. Cheers for that, by the way."

Another pause. 004 moved to the door. "Right," she said. "So if I say anything to you about this mission..."

"You will possibly be punished for it," said Q. "Perhaps even arrested."

"But then," she countered, "So would you."

"Touché," he said. He waited for her response. This was a hell of a risk he was asking her to take.

"I bore witness to some of 007's actions when it came to Murphy," said 004. "He got what he deserved, in my opinion." She left her hotel room and made her way to the lifts. "As for the video, I don't know how much you saw, but there was a hell of a storm kicking up and I couldn't hold the camera steady for a lot of what went on, but... There was something strange. Funny, I've only thought about it now."

"What was that?" asked Q. He was hungry for any hint of information he could grasp.

"I did hear Bond call Morgenstern something odd," she said.

"And?" he asked, grateful for this much information.

"He called him Geoffrey, I think," she said.

"Did he?" said Q, trying to keep his voice level. He had never felt so relieved in all his born days.

"Yes," she said. "And the thing is: I could have sworn the target's first name was Michael."


	16. Chapter 16

"Any clue what it means?" said 004.

Q could have shouted with happiness, but that really wasn't such a good idea in the furthest corner of Q Branch where he was trying to be discreet. "I have an inkling," he said. "No matter, go on. What else?"

"Well, morning came and I awoke to a smoldering pile of ash where the cabin had been," said 004. She was walking through the car park toward her car.

"What do you mean?" said Q, his heart rate back up. "Smoldering pile of ash doesn't sound good. I knew 007 went missing, but I didn't know Morgenstern was dead in his cabin. Did you confirm the kill?"

"Not a chance. The cabin was decimated. No sign of human life or remains anywhere on property," she said as she switched her bag to the other shoulder and brought out her keys. "I was far enough away in the woods when it all happened that I didn't see smoke or hear an explosion, but if the weather had been better, I probably could have stuck around for more. As it was it was hurricane-speed winds on that mountainside and an ice storm blew over everything. I had to crack myself out of my tent come morning." She approached her vehicle, entered, and sat, talking to Q without starting the engine.

"Perhaps satellite could tell us," Q mused to himself. "Very well. What then?"

"What then, what?" said 004. "There was nothing more. No trace of either of them. Tanner just gave me the go-ahead to do a seek-and-destroy on the target and a search-and-rescue on Bond. I have no idea where to begin."

"Right," said Q. "If I were you, I'd go back to the cabin. Check the remnants of the shed in the back. It looked big enough to house a snowmobile. See if the remains of the machinery for one is still there. If not, then in all probability one or the other could have taken it. Do a radius search and see if the local forest ranger or whatever they're called has a description of his vehicle. No person living on the side of a mountain alone would be completely unnoticed by the local authorities. They should have all you need. Get cracking. I'll be in touch." Q disconnected the line.

004 listened to Q's suggestions with surprise and admiration. He really did have a good head on his shoulders. She moved to start the engine and paused only when she felt the cold steel against the back of her head. She risked a glance in the mirror.

"Drive," said Morgenstern. "And don't get cute, young miss. I may be old, but I'm not stupid."

004 recognized the caliber of the weapon he was handling and knew that he could shoot straight through the car seat and still kill her if she didn't cooperate. She did as she was ordered, but posed a question to him coolly as she pulled out of the car park: "Where's Bond?"

"As far as I know," said Morgenstern, "dead."


	17. Chapter 17

Two days ago James Bond woke up naked in an unfamiliar bed with a Swiss cheese memory and completely surrounded by smoke. He hacked and coughed himself into wakefulness, adrenaline taking over his system in seconds. He leapt up and looked about. Morgenstern's cabin. And the target was nowhere to be found. Stupidly, Bond reached for the door handle. It was hot to the touch and left a first degree burn kissed on his palm. He spied his clothing scattered about the floor and quickly got dressed, lacing his boots as fast as he could. He grabbed a shirt from one of the dressers and wrapped it around his face just under his eyes, tying it behind his head. Another shirt was wrapped around his hand and he opened the door on his knees.

The place was ablaze in several places, the fire burning fiercest at the front door. Bond spotted his pack across the room. The flames were close to it, but it had not yet been consumed. Crouched low, dodging this way and that, and beating at whatever flames got to him with the shirt in his hand, he made his way across the room. He hoisted the pack onto his shoulders, only to find that Morgenstern had gone through it. The sleeping bag fell off and rolled inconveniently away from him. He reached for it and beat out some embers that were burning their way through to the lining. The tent was loose but Bond gathered it to the pack and clutching all to his chest, made his way hacking and coughing back to the bedroom. He used the pack frame to bust out one of the windows. He threw the items out, grabbing at a box of matches from the bedside table and stuffing them into his pocket. He followed his gear out the window.

Once outside, he ripped off the shirt from his face and took a few well-needed deep breaths. Behind him, the wood of the cabin splintered and cracked. The whole thing was coming down. He had to act fast. He gathered everything and headed for the treeline some fifty feet away. Once there, he strapped everything back on his pack, cursing the fact that he didn't have a proper jacket on. He put the two shirts on over his own and prayed it would be enough against the icy rain that was currently falling. He searched the opposing treeline for a sign of Morgenstern. There was none. But what he did see spurred his curiosity. Faintly he noticed human tracks in the snow leading from the window he leaped from and leading around the back of the cabin and off into the night. Instinctively, he followed them, shouldering his pack.

The firelight supplied enough illumination to show him that this person was slight and fit. The tracks were short and evenly spaced and the boot print was small. A woman then. Who the fuck was that?

Fresher tracks crossed the first: a snowmobile. That had to be Morgenstern. The tracks led from the shed out back and into the woods on what appeared to be the same track as those of the footprints. Curiouser and curiouser. He followed them both. No sooner had he gotten ten more feet, just thirty feet past the treeline, he was thrown forward and into a copse of trees just off the trail.

Some minutes later, Bond awoke to a ringing in his ears that he couldn't clear at first. The snow was icing over and he was frozen to the bone. Something inside him said: "Move you damned fool! You'll die of exposure!" and he was on his feet before his brain caught up with the motion. This resulted in instantaneous dizziness and Bond clung to a tree for balance as his body slowly rid itself of its disorientation.

Suddenly his hearing cleared. He looked back at where the cabin used to stand. Not two feet away from him was a thick piece of slate stone with writing chiseled in it that read: "Shall I not take mine ease in mine own home?"

Bond recognized it as part of the fireplace in Morgenstern's cabin. The place had blown to bits. But where did Morgenstern get such firepower?

A thought occurred to Bond and he checked his pack. Sure enough, the Semtex in the toothpaste tube Q had issued him was missing.

Bond took stock: icy rain currently falling, no structured shelter available, no coat, no gloves, no Semtex, a box of matches, a pup tent, a singed sleeping bag, no food, and a box of headache powder. Terrific.


	18. Chapter 18

The footprints in the snow bothered Bond. They were out of place in this situation and so he made up his mind to follow them. He could always pick up Morgenstern's trail; he had no idea what this stranger was bringing to the table. Best to investigate. The snow mobile tracks followed them for a while along the path, but then the path veered off to the left and down the mountain. The footprints went off straight ahead into the woods.

The freezing rain had dissipated somewhat by that time and thanks to the sheltering trees surrounding him Bond was no longer subjected to the icy needles of rain freezing him to the bone. Despite this good turn of fate, Bond was shivering with cold as the first rays of the sun kissed the snow around him. It was then that he spied the tent. Bond carefully picked his way along the tree trunks, trying not to leave a strong trail behind him for this mystery person to shadow him. It was bad enough that he was chasing unknown quarry, he didn't need an unknown variable tracing him. Once he was north of the campsite, the tent was between him and what remained of the cabin. A small plume of black smoke was all that remained of it and Bond could barely see it through the trees.

There was movement in the tent. The occupant was awake and attempting to kick the ice coating off of the zip door. After a few moments of struggle, Bond breathed a sigh of relief as he saw 004 emerge from the cocoon. He watched her stretch for a moment and grab some binoculars from her pack. She focused them down the mountain and as soon as she saw the smoke, she dropped them into the snow and took off toward the cabin at a rapid pace.

Bond watched her go with a mixture of confusion and relief. On the one hand, she was an agent he knew; on the other, she was here for a purpose that was heretofore undisclosed to Bond. Why was she here? To check up on him? To back him up? And under who's orders? M's? Q's? Bond shook his head. That was something he would have to discuss with Q once he re-established contact. He regretted the bravado of destroying his earwig in front of Morgenstern as a show of trust. He should have brought a back-up. Ah well... hindsight is always 20-20.

It occurred to Bond as he huddled and shivered that 004 didn't seem to have skis or a snowmobile handy. She must have come in by the mountain road and that meant a vehicle. Bond prayed it was one of these over-sized four-wheel drive things as he headed further up the mountain seeking the road that would no doubt run back to town. The car alone would provide some much-needed shelter for him. Sure enough, a huge SUV was hidden just off the main road by some shrubs. The vehicle itself was white and blended in nicely with its surroundings. Bond made his way to the back of the car and sent up a small prayer that she had left it unlocked. He hadn't any tools for breaking in, nor was he going to be able to disable the alarm if she had bothered to set it. She hadn't set the alarm, but as for the lock: no such luck. Fucking hell.

All Bond could do was wait. He found a tree to hunker behind and lit a match or two to warm his numb hands while he waited for 004 to piece together that there was nothing left of the cabin and no trace of Morgenstern or Bond. He didn't have to wait long. Up from the woods she came, lugging her tent loosely behind her. Like any good agent, she decided to bugger off once something catastrophic like that happened. There was no telling when the mountain rangers would be heading this way to investigate and local entanglements were decidedly not part of the plan. Bond saw her throw the tent - only partially collapsed - into the back of the vehicle and then take off back down to the campsite to destroy any traces of her being there. In her haste, she left the boot door open.

Bond praised the powers that be and as soon as she had disappeared a fair distance away, he abandoned his pack, crawled in behind the tent, spreading it around himself haphazardly, and held as still as his shivering body would let him.

He would speak to 004 once she was on her way - provided of course that he could trust her. These days, one could never tell.


	19. Chapter 19

Bond was developing an unmitigated love for the invention of the heater in an automobile. The vehicle trundled out of the snow and headed down the mountain with purpose. Bond had thought to pop up almost immediately in order to contact 004 and re-establish himself on the grid with MI6, but the engine started, the heat kicked on, and there was a vent blowing right on the back of his neck with the most delicious hot air he had ever experienced. It kept him immobile for the better part of the journey. Bond supposed that it didn't really matter whether he was at the top of the mountain or the bottom; he could reveal himself either way.

Besides, if he had spoken up, he would have missed the three phone calls that 004 was making as she sped down the mountain. The first call was to a hotel in the village. She had made room reservations for the night and wanted to see about an early check-in. Judging by her response, they had answered in the affirmative. Bond thought he could do with a hot shower as well. Or perhaps a soak. He shut his eyes and smiled at the thought of feeling his toes again.

The second call was to someone she couldn't reach. She rang off with a curse. After another few tense moments, she made another call. He could hear her whisper "Pick up... pick up, you bastard..." and when the caller obviously didn't pick up, she threw the phone down into the seat next to her. Bond could hear the thud. She was pissed off about something.

After a few miles and some twists and turns that could only be made in the structured streets of civilization, the car came to a stop and Bond knew his time for equivocation was at an end. She would uncover him as soon as she unloaded the trunk. The car door slammed shut and Bond waited for the boot to open. It never did. Slowly, he peeked out from under the tent and looked about. He was in a parking garage. There was no one about. 004 had disappeared and once again not set the alarm. He would have to have a talk with her about that.

He removed himself from the vehicle and made his way to the nearest hotel, simultaneously shadowing 004 and booking himself in for the day. He asked the receptionist whether or not his co-worker had gotten there. She smiled and assured him that there was a woman who just finished checking in and would he like her to call her room to tell him that he was there also? Bond declined her offer and asked to be placed on the same floor as she, if it were possible. The woman smiled and granted his request, telling him that she had placed him as close to the lady as possible to make things easier for him. He thanked her for her excellent customer service with a charming grin.

Bond made his way to the fourth floor and looked down the corridor. There was no way to tell which room was hers, but when he got to his room, he realized that he was across from the stairwell and on the end of the building. Most likely, 004 was in the room next door or across the corridor. God bless the helpful Canadians.

He made his way into the room, his eyes sweeping around the space out of habit. It was a typical small hotel domicile, nothing remarkable about it. He repaired to the bathroom and stripped off as he set warm water to filling the tub. Slipping beneath the water was an experience of nirvana for his cold bones. Sinking gracefully, he let the water surround him as he dipped underneath the surface. He felt his pores open and his muscles relax, and with the heat soaking in properly, he seemed to be able to think clearly about the activities that happened within the past twelve hours. There was something that had been niggling at the back of his brain that he couldn't quite...

Suddenly he popped out of the water, splashing a bit. 004 and her phone calls: who were the second and third phone calls made to if not to MI6 to report in? And why didn't MI6 pick up? Or why wasn't she given an earwig? It was in that moment that Bond realized that 004 wasn't calling in to report at all.

Then whom was she trying to reach?


	20. Chapter 20

After his bath, Bond picked up the phone to call in to headquarters, but hung up again. If he called in now to report, there would be all sorts of questions about his target and where he got off to. No. There was no time. He had to track Morgenstern and figure out what 004's game was before either of them had a chance to escape.

He got dressed quickly and left the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door when he left. He noticed that his neighbor across the hall had done the same in the hour he'd spent since he was last in the corridor. That must be where 004 was. He took the stairs down to the lobby and walked across the street. Morgenstern had been trained as Bond was, so if he had no clothes to his name (which he didn't) and he needed to get out of town, he'd purchase new clothes and a bag to hold them in at a local shop. Then he'd hire a car and get out. Morgenstern had a few hours on him, but Bond thought he might still be able to trace him. A mission may have a mysterious new level to it, but it was still a mission, and he wanted to complete it before he called in.

There was one general department store in the village that sold everything from clothing to groceries and other daily-use items. Bond walked in and browsed through the men's section. A worker came up to him to help and Bond selected a white button-down shirt, one pair of trousers, a heavy coat, a pair of gloves, some aspirin, and a Swiss Army knife before casually asking about his friend who had a cabin up on the mountain. He told the attendant that he planned on visiting, but only if his mate were home. He didn't want to disturb him. The attendant looked saddened and told Bond of the tragic explosion that no doubt took the life of his friend. "Local police are saying that the boiler blew," the lady informed him. "There's nothing left of the cabin."

Another co-worker of hers added: "But the guy survived," he said, eager to contribute to the town gossip. "He was here just an hour ago picking up some new clothes and a bag to carry them all in. Poor fella. Lost everything in that explosion." The first attendant wore a cheered expression at the man's survival and helped Bond ring up his purchases.

"Any idea where I can catch up with him?" Bond asked her.

"My best guess would be the hotel just down the street," she said, meaning the very hotel Bond and 004 were staying in. "It's the only decent one in town." She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially: "The one over by the highway is a flea trap." Bond winked his thanks to her and left with his purchases.

He carefully picked his way back to the hotel, even more wary than before. He used the stairs again and seeing the "Do Not Disturb" sign still in place on 004's room, decided to see how disturbed he could make her. He left his things in his room and headed to the front desk.

He told the attendant that he was unhappy with his room and was the room a level above available to him? Preferably the one next to that stairwell and on the opposite side of the corridor as he preferred a view of the mountain. It was. She handed him a key with a smile. She said he could hand in his old key any time, but that it would be deactivated at six that evening. He thanked her and headed back upstairs.

All the rooms had balconies; his new room was no exception. Without a hint of hesitation, Bond climbed out over the ledge and let himself down onto the balcony below him. Through the windows he could see 004's reclined figure. She was asleep on her stomach, her head facing the door opposite. If she was expecting company, it was obviously expected through her door and not the balcony. Carefully he slid the door open and shut it practically noiselessly behind him.

But not noiselessly enough. 004 stirred.


	21. Chapter 21

Bond held his breath and froze solid to the spot. 004 shifted slightly beneath the duvet, hugged the pillow closer to her head, and appeared to fall back asleep. The cold air from the outside must have alerted her and Bond made the decision to leave via the door when he had found what he was looking for.

He spied her phone by the nightstand. He had to know whom she was trying to reach.

Achingly slowly he approached her, setting each foot along the floor and shifting his weight from foot to foot as slowly as he could without losing his balance. The phone was right near her head. This was going to be tricky. If he startled her, she would fight first and ask questions later. If she had her weapon nearby...

Bond scanned quickly for her weapon but couldn't see where she was hiding it. Most likely it was under the other pillow on the bed - the one she wasn't using.

He eyed her sleeping form as he crept along. Each soft crunch of the carpet fibers underneath his boots sounded as though someone had set dried leaves everywhere. Even his breathing sounded loud to his ears.

He was a foot away and the phone was right there.

Softly he picked it up and turned it on.

It was locked.

Fuck.

Bond unplugged the phone from the charger and crept slowly back toward the balcony. He was either going to have to tempt fate by risking the cold air across her skin two more times or...

He thought a moment and looked over at the dresser. Her room key. Perfect. In one swift and silent motion, he took her key and crept toward the door of her room. Silently he unlocked her door, opened it, and stepped through, closing the door as quietly as he could behind him.

He breathed a sigh of relief and went to his old room, sat on the bed, and pressed the emergency call button on the phone. He called the MI6 help desk.

"This is 007. Get me a phone record for 004's mobile. I need to have the last three numbers she called," he said.

He identified himself as per their prompts and after a few moments, they provided him with the numbers he asked for. Bond wrote them down and rang off. Time to return the phone and try not to get shot.


	22. Chapter 22

As he set the phone back on the charge near her head, 004 stirred again, flipping her head to the other side and facing away from James. Bond stood still for several minutes waiting for her breathing to regulate. His caution was warranted. For in so far as she was terrible at remembering to set car alarms, she was a crack shot, besting Bond on the range time and time again.

He stepped away from her slowly, as he did before, replaced her key on the dresser, and let himself out the front door.

He returned to his old rooms and looked at the numbers. A quick glance at all the hotel's advert information in the room told him that the first number on the list was indeed hotel reception. The last two numbers matched and were local numbers. Was there a team in place here in Canada? If so, why wasn't he notified?

Damn. He should have tried to call the number on her phone before returning it. He went out on his balcony. Seren-fucking-dipity. Below in the car park was Morgenstern talking to some local police. Bond saw them bundle him in the cruiser and head off. Of course! They would want to interrogate him about the cabin explosion. 007 smiled for the first time in days.

He returned to the room and lay across the bed. It was late morning, Morgenstern was detained by the police, and 004 was sleeping. He didn't want to sleep, but it made the most sense for him. Morgenstern couldn't really move around this town without being recognized and he was sure the authorities would keep him tied up until later. He set his head into the pillows and tried to make sense of his day, starting with the afternoon before:

_"Sit down," Morgenstern had said._

_Bond sat at the wooden table and stared at Morgenstern. He was built solidly, broad shoulders with a slim waist. Thirty years had gone by and other than the grey in his hair and his beard, he looked as though he hadn't aged a day. James only hoped he would look half as attractive to Q in thirty years._

_Morgenstern held up a hand to Bond and turned to one of his cabinets. He brought down a couple of glasses and a bottle of what appeared to be very old scotch. "Thirty year Glenmorangie," said Morgenstern. "Bought it thirty years ago, so either it'll be excellent, or it'll be piss." He chuckled. Morgenstern paused as he poured and asked: "It's alright if I have one last one, eh?"_

_"Fine with me," said Bond._

_"Join me?" offered Morgenstern._

_"I'd be offended if you didn't offer," said Bond._

_Morgenstern smiled and poured out two fingers of the amber liquid for them both. Bond took his glass and held it up to his nose. "Doesn't smell like piss," he said._

_"Good," said Moregenstern. "A toast then. To the end of all things: may I die happy."_

_The glasses clinked._

Sleep took Bond in moments.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Memory of rape/ non-con sex contained in this chapter.  
> It's only bits and pieces of memory, but it may be too much for some folks.

His dream went a bit pear-shaped and Bond awoke with a start. The tattered ends of the dream re-formed long enough for him to remember thinking Q was under the floorboards of the cabin and not being able to prise them up fast enough before it all blew to smithereens.

Q. He had to reach him soon. He knew the quartermaster must be pulling his hair out trying to reach him and if he found out Bond made that call to the help desk without having his call routed to Q Branch first, there would be hell to pay. Q may not speak to him for a week. Worse, he may arrange a boring babysitting assignment for him. But then, that's where he and Q began. And Q was anything but boring.

Another flash of memory went through Bond's head. If 004 had been camped out all night near the cabin and had peeped through the window that evening, she would have borne witness to Morgenstern's activities. If she managed to report it... And Q knew... Dear God.

Then, Q was used to him having sex as part of a mission. Granted, most assassination missions were pretty straight forward: you obtain the target and then take him out. They usually didn't go as far as full-on sex. But then, Morgenstern had drugged him.

His actual memory of the event was sketchy. The glass that Morgenstern handed him originally was clean, the whisky too, but then the clumsy ox knocked the glass over and it smashed. He stumbled up for another and wiped it with a cloth. The cloth must have had something on it. The whiskey tasted the same, but it hit him hard as he drank it. Bond remembered the room swaying a bit and snippets of Morgenstern's conversation, but nothing he said hung together clearly in his mind.

The next thing Bond knew, Morgenstern was kissing him. Had Bond been sober, he could have fought him off, but he couldn't get his balance. His legs wouldn't hold him. And then he was collapsing on a soft bed, his clothes were removed and he watched helplessly as Morgenstern hovered over him. The slick wet kisses, the groping, the manhandling of his body into position, even the actual penetration were nothing Bond could defend himself from. Morgenstern was raping him.

He shouted things too... awful things. He had called Bond names, which, under any other circumstances wouldn't have caused Bond to bat an eye, now caused him to shudder and feel ill, filthy.

Bond shook his head at the memory. Bile built up in his throat and he raced to the toilet to be sick.

He had put off processing that night for long enough. What he could remember was unpleasant (to say the least) and the only way he remembered getting through it all was thinking of Geoffrey the whole time: picturing his caring touch, his loving eyes, his smile that was reserved for James alone. James faintly recalled fighting off Morgenstern's voice with his own as he declared his love for Geoffrey like a lifesaving mantra. As he sat on the floor of the bathroom and leaned against the bowl, he let the memory of Q surround and comfort him again and chanted: "I love you, Geoffrey. Please forgive me... I love you, Geoffrey. Please forgive me..."

He had to kill Morgenstern. The bastard had to die. This was more than a mission to Bond now. But he wanted to kill Morgenstern for more than just himself. He wanted to kill Morgenstern for soiling what he and Q have together. He wanted to watch the light go out in his eyes and feel the satisfaction of knowing that the one thing that managed to ruin their relationship was no longer breathing oxygen. He wanted to feel his life go out with his bare hands.

He rose to the sink and looked at his haggard features in the mirror. Splashing water on his face helped with the nausea, but not with the hatred. Only Morgenstern's death would assist in assuaging that.


	24. Chapter 24

Bond was spinning his wheels and he let out a breath of frustration. He watched from his balcony as Morgenstern came back from the police station. Apparently satisfied with his false answers, they let him go. The ex-agent walked into the hotel and disappeared. As Bond pondered how best to follow him, he heard someone knocking on a door in the corridor. It wasn't his door, but one close by, so he leaned to his own door to see if he could hear the exchange. Most likely it was housekeeping, but the knock was so close that Bond knew it must be 004's door.

She answered, sounding groggy. Bond couldn't pick up on the words themselves, but he could sense her mood right enough. She sounded put out. The voice from the corridor responded to hers. A much lower tone, a man. Much to his surprise, Bond recognized it as Morgenstern's.

What the fucking hell?

There was no sound of a scuffle or fight. All Bond heard was the quiet exchange of voices: his stern, hers snippy. What was to be made of this? Was 004 aware of Bond's target and there to help him or not? Suddenly it struck him as to who she had called. But no... 

Bond went to the phone and dialed the number, leaving the receiver off the hook. He went back to the door and opened it a crack. He watched in horror as Morgenstern looked with confusion at his phone as it vibrated with Bond's call.

God damn it.

Bond saw 004 shrug her shoulders and Morgenstern turn beet red with anger. He stormed off. 004 closed her door after calling down the hall: "I will not do your dirty work, Michael."

"Michael"? Was she that familiar with the man? If so, how? 004 had always been a good agent, or so Bond thought. This was disappointing news, but news that MI6 would want to hear. He only hoped that they would listen to him after all he had done to Murphy and after they had seen 004's video footage of him. He fervently hoped that evidence wasn't too damning.

Bond shook his head. This was all too much. What did 004 have to do with the killings and preservation of a dozen or so small infants in the bowels of MI6? Was Morgenstern the actual serial killer? Were Morgenstern and 004 related in some way?

All double-oh's pasts were scrubbed from the files. Was there a way to track it all down? Q would know. He would be able to find out 004's dirty little secrets with a few well-placed keystrokes.

Q... the thought of contacting his lover made his heart ache with longing. He wanted this mission done with, but there were the children to consider and if Bond eliminated Morgenstern now, he would be cutting his nose off to spite his face. Q's whole reason behind this mission was to stand up for those children. No. Morgenstern was too valuable now. He had to keep him alive and follow him. It was the only way.  
Bond needed more information.

He had to go into MI6 with evidence enough to not only arrest 004, but to be able to put her away. If he didn't, and she were guilty of being complicit in this crime, she would be sure and try and retaliate in some way. And quite frankly, James Bond didn't need another enemy out gunning for him.

He knew Morgenstern needed 004 in some way, so he stayed in the room he was in so he could observe her movements. James was going to follow 004. Morgenstern was guilty of a lot of things at this point, but 004 was guilty too - but what was her crime?


	25. Chapter 25

Morning came with a knock at his door and someone from housekeeping entering. The hotel had his room down as unoccupied and was taking the earliest opportunity they had to clean it. Bond smiled at a very surprised maid and said, "Health and Safety. Carry on."

He bounded up the stair case just one flight and waited for the maid to call security. He didn't hear her make the call and no one came. Bond said a silent prayer of thanks for laziness and made his way down the stairs to the lobby. The friendly girl he had purchased the room from was there again and he greeted her asking if anyone from his firm had left a package for him last night. She turned to check in the back for anything that may have been left and Bond helped himself to a letter opener that was on her counter, placing it into his back pocket and pulling his shirt and coat down over it to conceal it. She had seen no delivery and he thanked her. He casually walked out and made his way to the parking garage.

The hotel wasn't very busy at this time of year. It was the end of the ski season and most of the business was done. The parking garage reflected this. He found 004's rented SUV right away.

If he knew 004, she would leave the hotel early - earlier than perhaps Morgenstern expected - so it was a good job that Bond was hiding in a small alcove when she came up into the garage and headed toward her vehicle. She was on the phone and he heard her say: "Well, morning came and I awoke to a smoldering pile of ash where the cabin had been." She was obviously reporting in. This was weird. She had already reported in after she saw the cabin was destroyed. So who was she reporting to now? Was there a third party involved in all this? MI6, Morgenstern, and now an unknown was thrown into the mix. Terrific.

He heard her go on: "Not a chance. The cabin was decimated. No sign of human life or remains anywhere on property. I was far enough away in the woods when it all happened that I didn't see smoke or hear an explosion, but if the weather had been better, I probably could have stuck around for more. As it was, it was hurricane-speed winds on that mountainside and an ice storm blew over everything. I had to crack myself out of my tent come morning." She was sat in her car with the door open. Her next words came as the most curious to Bond: "What then, what? There was nothing more. No trace of either of them. Tanner just gave me the go-ahead to do a seek-and-destroy on the target and a search-and-rescue on Bond. I have no idea where to begin." And with that she slammed the door and her conversation was cut off.

Bond had a good mind to stroll right up to the car's driver side window and knock on it, bold as brass. She was talking to someone in MI6, that much was obvious. She wouldn't use Tanner's name with anyone who didn't know who Tanner was. And if she was under orders from Tanner, at least part of her mission was legitimate. As for her actually doing a search-and-rescue on James, that was an outright lie. She may have been given the order to do so, but Bond was certain that she had no intention of actually doing it. As far as 004 was concerned, Bond was dead and she was fine with that. Any other agent would have scoured the wreckage of the cabin that day looking for trace evidence of him. He would have done that for her.

Bond saw her listening intently and nodding along to what the other person on the other end of the phone was telling her. She hung up and Bond started as he saw Morgenstern pop up from behind her. Damn woman. This is what comes from not setting the bloody alarm on your fucking car.

Morgenstern didn't shoot her right away, so there was hope that he'd still get his answers. But there was nothing he could do until they were clear. He watched them drive off, ducking behind another car as they passed. He wasn't noticed. When he stole the letter opener, he thought he might have to use it to steal a car. He wasn't wrong. He found a late-model Volvo and popped the lock.

He had no idea where they were headed. All he knew was that he had to pursue. He kept a healthy distance and, just as he had suspected, he watched as 004 and Morgenstern headed down the mountain and toward the open freeway.


	26. Chapter 26

Q sat at his office desk and tried to calm his breathing. It was just dumb luck that the call came into Q Branch from the help desk supervisor just as he was trying to make a quiet exit from the division office.

"Call for you, sir. From Ms. Pendergast," said a voice. Tanner looked over the room to see who the junior agent had spoken to when he spotted Q.

"What are you doing here?" Tanner asked.

"Just leaving," said Q, trying to make it appear as though he didn't sneak purposely back into Q Branch to contact 004 after recusing himself from the mission. Which is exactly what he had done, of course.

Tanner narrowed his eyes and slowly said, "Alright."

"Sir?" said the junior, looking directly at Q.

"Yes?" said Q, snapping to attention. "Oh yes. Quite right. Ms. Pendergast, you said? She's..."

"Help desk," supplied Tanner. "Upstairs."

"What the devil do they want?" said Q, annoyed. His tone changed when he took up the receiver: "This is Q. What do you need, Ms. Pendergast?" Tanner watched as Q listened patiently, observing Q's face reflect confusion and dawning realization in quick succession. "When did this call come in?" Q asked excitedly. He listened for another moment and uncharacteristically burst out: "What the fuck do you mean twelve hours ago?! What the hell is wrong with you people that it takes a half day response on a flagged agent?! We're bloody MI6 for fuck's sake!" Q listened for another few moments to an obviously feeble answer from Ms. Pendergast. "Oh my dear," Q said in a voice dipped in poison, "you'd better hope to hell another call of its kind never comes in to your department again because you've bloody-well dropped the fucking ball." Q hung up angrily before he could say more that he would regret later.

Q looked up to see Tanner staring at him expectantly. "Bond's alive," said Q. He immediately retreated to his seldom-used office and slammed the door.

Tanner walked to the door intending to get more information on Bond's situation from Q, but he could hear all manner of objects being flung about the room, hitting walls and crashing to floors. He thought better of knocking and turned on his heel to ask the junior agent to ring up Ms. Pendergast. He would get the news from her instead.

His office was currently in shambles and Q held his head in his hands, elbows on the now empty desk top. He was grateful for the silence and the darkness. (He had destroyed the desk lamp and never turned on the ceiling light.) He listened to his breathing staggering out of his lungs. There was one question that taunted his poor brain. It spun in his head over and over and over: Why the hell didn't you call ME, James?


	27. Chapter 27

It was an airfield. Small charter airplanes took off and landed rarely there and Bond watched as 004 and Morgenstern got out of the SUV in front of a hangar at the end of the tarmac. He had his weapon out and waved her into the hangar with it. There was no one about to see it, save Bond, who had ditched the car at the access road and walked through the woods to the airfield. There was less snow here and the landing strip was clear. If Morgenstern was going to leave the country, he would have every opportunity to do so here. In twenty minutes, he could be over to the American side of things and God knows where he would go after that.

Bond had to stop this from happening and get those two in his custody. He would need help. He would need 004's phone again. And her weapon.

Bond ran quickly to the door through which they had disappeared. He wasn't too sure what he would find inside, but he steeled himself for a firefight. Gently he opened the door and slipped inside.

It seemed to be colder inside the hangar than outside; his breath came in clouded pants and he listened for the slightest disturbance, ever watchful in case he was spotted. Morgenstern and 004 were talking heatedly about something and Bond ducked behind some oil drums in an attempt to inch closer to his quarry.

"You really shouldn't have made me wait on you," said Morgenstern.

"Wait on you?!" said 004, "You're the one with the destroyed cabin that I couldn't reach!"

"Look," said Morgenstern, keeping his gun trained on her, "My last thought was the damn phone! Jesus, haven't you people ever heard of land lines? And besides, I had only planned on burning the place to the ground. I have no idea what caused it to explode. I expect Bond had a Quartermaster special on him. Some type of an exploding pen or some such nonsense. I never went in for all that clap-trap. Give me a good rifle any day over garrote wire in a shoelace." He motioned her to the airplane in the center of the hangar, marching her up the stairs. Bond heard their voices still going back and forth and something else: a ripping noise that he couldn't quite place. Bond rose to spring upon them both, but sank back down as Morgenstern appeared again at the hatch. "That should hold you for now. I'll let you breathe again when we're in the air."

Bond heard 004 shout: "Where are you going?"

Morgenstern shouted up: "I never could fly on an empty stomach. Haven't had my breakfast yet. Be back in a minute. If you're a good girl, I'll bring you a cup of coffee." He strolled over to a makeshift kitchen area near where Bond was hunkered down and started a pot of coffee on a small plug-in cooker not five feet from Bond's hiding place. Morgenstern crossed the room to a compact refrigerator and made a repulsed sound when he saw what rotted in there. He mumbled something about "people are pigs" as he dug through various rotted fruits and milk that from the look of it had formed a brick in the bottom of the container.

Bond eyed the coffee coming to a boil. He needed the warmth of a cup himself. He slipped his hands into his pockets to warm them and found four packets of the headache powder he had purchased. Smiling to himself, he ripped all of them open and as quickly as he could and poured them into the coffee pot.

Perhaps detaining these two would be easier than he thought.


	28. Chapter 28

Q left Q Branch with a heavy heart. He was so angry with Bond, he could spit nails, but there was nothing for him to do but to wait for the next update and Tanner agreed to keep him in the loop.

He walked back to the rooms he'd been occupying in the sub-basement and yearned for the day where he could go back to his own home. At least there he wouldn't see James in every single piece of furniture or standing in every door frame. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it with a sigh. It had been a terrible past few hours, the upshot of which was Bond's survival. Thank God he was alive.

Suddenly, Q felt filthy. The open city air from the rooftop and the dust-scattered remnants of his office clung to his skin like a fuzzy film. He peeled his clothes off and turned the taps of the shower as hot as he could stand it. He stood under the spray for some minutes, attempting to absorb all the knowledge he had acquired over the past few days. It hardly seemed real. Murphy, Morgenstern, 004, the children... It was all as if it were happening to someone else.

Geoffrey needed James. He needed his strong arms around him, his lips against his skin, murmuring comforting words into his ear as the water caressed them both. The more Q considered these thoughts, the more the evil of the past few days and weeks seemed to fade off. He leaned back into the overhead spray and let the hot water redden his skin as he brushed his cock noncommittally. A wank might do him some good. At least it would be a way to relax. He hadn't relaxed properly since he and James were left alone for those last few days before Berlin. 

James had made him so happy then: he was caring, gentle, attentive and at the same time pouty, whining, and demanding. It was fucking adorable. Q grinned at the memory. And oh... he was dead sexy too. Strong muscles rippled under golden skin and blue incandescent eyes burned into his as Geoffrey rode him to orgasm.

Q became more interested in his building erection and soon he had soaped up a hand and was slowly stroking himself, the free hand propped up against the tiles at arm's length to keep his body under the strong spray of the water. He bowed his head in concentration as he rhythmically pumped his fist over his cock, teasing the head with a thumb and mixing the precum with the suds.

James... perfect James... stroking his skin, kissing his mouth, tasting his cum. James, the killer, who, for all the danger he was trained to endure, could hardly wait for Q to recover before begging for more like a whimpering child in need of candy. And the hot tight perfection of his arsehole was nirvana itself. In his mind's eye, Q drove himself deeper and deeper into the man, causing him to buck and grind, squirm and moan Q's name over and over again. No James... don't touch yourself just yet. That's it... hang on for me. I want us to cum together.

Q increased the pace of his stroke as his hips reacted to the images that flashed in his mind. He could see the pleading look in the baby blue eyes beneath him, the sweat-slicked skin, the heaving of his chest as his breathing became panting. Just a moment longer, James... I'm so close.

Q's eyes were tight shut as he came, his face tilted back under the spray. He sputtered under the water, his body stuttering out its last in his hand. Jesus, James... God yes... Oh fuck me...

Q stood and caught his breath. The only sound was his respiration and the slap of the water all around. He opened his eyes and looked about him.

He never felt more alone.

Please, James... come home.


	29. Chapter 29

Q was towel-drying his hair when his phone beeped an alert at him. Thinking it was finally a message from Bond, he raced to where it sat on the bedside table. It was from several hours ago and it was from Moneypenny: the pictures of Murphy and the video had been sent and were sitting in his inbox.

Q equivocated for several minutes, and since he was British, he always made it a point to equivocate over a cup of tea. He moved to the small kitchen and put the kettle on the boil. As he waited, he brought up his laptop to the kitchen table and called up his email.

Did he really want to open that can of worms? Was it worth it to see Murphy's dead and mutilated body? What was it that he would be looking for, exactly? He was no pathologist. He wasn't even a medical man. The thought of cleaning up his own sick made him a bit queasy. And if he was honest, the first time seeing those pictures was enough to make his stomach tighten. Was there really any value in viewing something that he knew would just wind up making him ill?

And then there was the video: Did he want to study it that badly? Was it really necessary to put himself through the torture of witnessing Bond being raped when there wasn't a thing Q could do about it? At least 004 had unwittingly given him the satisfaction of knowing that Bond had focused on Q the entire time he was being penetrated. Poor bastard.

The kettle whistle startled him out of his thoughts. He made his cup of tea and went back to the screen, allowing the leaves to steep.

He sighed and stared at the email that held two very unsettling attachments. M and Moneypenny were loathe to give him the files. They were concerned that he would be hurt emotionally by them. It was sweet of them really. To think that the head of MI6 was concerned about the feelings of his quartermaster when the man had spent time as a prisoner of the IRA all those years ago; it was touching and a bit baffling. M shouldn't be so concerned. And perhaps that's why Q insisted that he be given them: to prove that he was tougher than the situation at hand, to prove that he was still in control of his little corner of the universe.

Q wanted to be strong and confident in everything he did. He could remember when his life was relatively effortless: he would wake, make his tea and while it steeped, manipulate a foreign government into thinking that their foreign investors were about to be sweet-talked by a competitor nation, risking the GNP of that nation and possibly opening up a reason for war. And then our boys in Parliament would swoop in and close the deal without a bullet fired or a low-bid compromise, the foreign nation believing that it had no choice otherwise. It was the effort of a few well-placed key strokes and Q was very good at what he did. He could still do those things. That part of him still existed. But it was colored differently these days by the events of the recent past.

Q wanted his old life back. But that was before Murphy. And before Bond. Would he have it any other way? James was such a pain in his arse before: never returning the equipment, or worse, returning it beat to hell and gone; going off the grid at random only to come back with his quarry like a golden hunting dog; or the time when he arrogantly thought that breaking into Q's flat to wait for him was advisable, especially after Q had been attacked in the street barely two days before? Insufferable man. 

But this was also the same man who claimed to love him, using Q as a focal point when he was drugged and raped by a sadistic ex-agent. And he was the same man who tortured a man to death because that man had dared to harm Q.

James Bond had tortured and killed someone for revenge. For Geoffrey.

Honestly, thought Q as he took his first tentative sip at the hot liquid, I don't know whether to kiss him or shoot him.


	30. Chapter 30

A video link popped up on his screen. Tanner. Q opened the link and adjusted the screen so that Tanner could see him properly.

"What is it?" asked Q.

"Bond," said Tanner. "He's got 004 and Morgenstern. He's in Nova Scotia and we're sending transport to him. They should be there within the hour. He says Morgenstern and 004 need to be questioned. Says there's more going on here than meets the eye."

"So Morgenstern's not dead?" asked Q aloud. It was a rhetorical question.

Tanner answered anyway: "Yes, sir. But he's ill. Bond said his allergies have gotten the best of him. No idea what he's on about, but our transport is medically equipt, so he should live until he gets here."

"When is the transport expected?" asked Q.

"Twenty-one-hundred hours," said Tanner.

Q nodded. "Right," he said.

"I wonder what Bond means," said Tanner, "about 004 being involved, I mean."

"No idea," said Q thoughtfully, his mind already churning with the possibilities of a search of her records.

"Well, anyway," said Tanner, cocking his head slightly as he watched Q's expression go all thoughtful and glassy-eyed. "I'll keep you posted regarding the landing of the transport."

"Hmm?" said Q, snapping out of his thoughts slightly, "Oh right. Thank you, Mr. Tanner."

"You're welcome, Q," said Tanner, and logged off.

Q sat staring into the middle distance for several minutes. The double-oh records were usually kept top secret; only the highest clearance was allowed to view them. Not even Q had that kind of access.

This would require either a lot of hacking or... perhaps he could just ask?

He connected his computer to Moneypenny's immediately.


	31. Chapter 31

"Just please tell me that you didn't actually open those attachments," said Moneypenny. "They'll do you no good, Q."

"And hello to you too, Ms. Moneypenny," said Q.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, "Hello, Q. Is there something you needed?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," said Q. When she furrowed her brow at him he added: "Top level clearance access to 004's personnel files with no encryption or censor."

"Oh?" said Moneypenny. "Is that all?" She smirked at him playfully.

"Just so," said Q, taking another sip of his tea.

"And you would want that granted to you for what purpose?" said Moneypenny.

Q thought about it for a moment and said: "Interrogation."

Moneypenny raised an eyebrow at this and Q took the time to explain what Tanner had said. "Ah," she replied. "That explains the sudden interest in her files."

"Sudden interest?" asked Q. "Who else is asking?"

"Oh no one's asking, save you," said Moneypenny. "M can look at whatever files he wants to."

"M already knows," said Q, nodding. "Of course: Tanner reported to him first."

"Just so," said Moneypenny with a wink.

"Any chance to glance over his shoulder?" asked Q.

She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. "I thought you were removing yourself from this assignment?"

Q paused and said: "Well, that was then. Now there's another double-oh involved. And I am the Quartermaster of Q Branch, regardless. All double-ohs are under my jurisdiction." He looked at her curiously. "Do you not think the old man would let me have a peek?"

M suddenly appeared over Moneypenny's shoulder. "The OLD MAN, as you call him, didn't recall giving you clearance for viewing such delicate information, Q. But then, I am such an OLD MAN. I'm liable to forget my trousers every morning."

Q was taken aback by M's sudden appearance, but only for a moment: "Well... as you are in your dotage and are liable to forget so much, perhaps two sets of eyes would spot something that you didn't? Sir?"

Moneypenny grinned and M rolled his eyes. Begrudgingly M said: "Come on up." He turned away from the camera for a moment and came back adding: "And do be so kind as to put some trousers on first, Q."

Q looked down at his towel-draped self and laughed as Moneypenny logged off with a grin and a wink.


	32. Chapter 32

004\. According to her files, she was born to a single mother in a small village just north of Cupar in Scotland. Also according to records, the mother was still alive. The father was unknown. She passed all her classes with average marks, nothing remarkable. No trauma. No signs of abuse. Everything was completely normal. She joined up in the Eighties, training went without a hitch, and she had an exemplary record. Everything was in its place.

Q shook his head. There had to be something more to it. M eyed him carefully and could tell that he was itching to sit in his seat and let his fingers fly over the keyboard. M allowed himself a small smile as he tilted the laptop toward Q. Q glanced at him once to be certain that it was alright and M nodded and vacated his chair, bringing one of the visitor's chairs around to sit in.

Typing was the only sound to be heard as Q researched the mother. He had her name, date of birth, and her NHS registration number in moments. M was a bit unsettled by this and said a silent prayer of thanks that the boy was on their side.

M watched Q staring at the screen. His brow furrowed and M asked, "What is it?"

"Where was 004 born again?" Q asked in response. M gave the location. "Hmm..." replied Q.

"At the risk of repeating myself, Q," said M, "What is it? Hey... did you just hack the NHS?"

"The mother," said Q, ignoring the question, "Her NHS number begins with 943. No one has that number. It's a dummy number. Look." He pointed at row upon row of valid NHS numbers. Where her number should have been, there was nothing listed. And there were none that began with the 943 prefix. M let out a low whistle. Q added: "And yet, she has to be part of the system. And..."

"Well?" asked M.

"Well... 004 was born into this world," said Q, looking at M significantly. "There would be a record of her mother having given birth, don't you think?"

"Of course," said M. This was most irregular.

"Exactly," said Q. "So..." Q mumbled to the screen as he typed, "who the devil is this woman? And more importantly," he added as his hands flew over the keys once more, "who the hell WAS she?" He pulled up birth records for the area and came up with only three babies born female on the same date as 004 in the general area of her little village. None of the mother's names matched, but the baby's name for one of them was 004's exactly - right down to the middle name - and both parents' names were listed on the document.

M and Q stared at the screen in abject horror. The silence in the room was deafening. Finally Q asked softly: "What do we do?"

"We take this to 004," said M. "She owes us answers."


	33. Chapter 33

M moved to leave his office to tell Moneypenny to prep an interrogation room. "Wait," said Q. M turned to look at him. "004 would only have her version of the story. It's Morgenstern we want."

"But 004 is ours. She's been on our side this whole time," argued M. "She's betrayed us."

Q shook his head. "No way 004 got her mum a false NHS card. There's no way she'd know how. She's a spy, an assassin, and a tracker. She's not a hacker. Trust me." M waited for Q to continue. "No. Someone arranged for that to happen. I bet if I dig deep enough I could find out who ordered the dummy number and who's covering for 004."

"Right," said M. "Get on it."

"So I have clearance," said Q, looking shyly up through his eyelashes.

M smirked. "For now."

Q went back to the sub-basement and logged onto his laptop. Moneypenny got him the clearance he needed to open up every door in MI6. If he was careful and covered his tracks, he could even see James' personnel file. Q shook the thought away and focused on the job at hand.

NHS numbers of both parents first... Acquired.

Father's discontinued due to death in 1985. Mother's good until 1985 and then it disappears. But the father isn't dead. The father's name on 004's birth certificate gave that away. And the mother changed her name and seemed to be in hiding. Her home was bought and paid for with cash. There was no mortgage, but there was a deed. Two signatures on the deed: the mother's under her new identity, an unknown person, and it was witnessed by... well... that's interesting.

1985\. Three years before 004 went into the military. No mention of anything else significant... On a whim, Q cross-checked the estimated years of death of all of the children's remains found in the sub-basement. Most killed in the Seventies. The last one... in the mid-Eighties.

Q blinked at the computer screen. He picked up his mobile and dialed up the medical examiner liaison to MI6. "Hello, yes... This is the Quartermaster of MI6. I need a DNA comparison made. Rush job. Three samples: two from files I'm going to download to your office. The other for them to be compared to: record remains number 5600008685. Please contact me with the results immediately. About how long will this process take?" There was a pause. "I see," said Q. "And there's no way to expedite it?" Another pause. "Damn. Well, do your best. Thank you."

Q hung up his phone. Three to four weeks. Fantastic. Why was everything so much faster in the movies?

Q sighed and began organizing the information he'd managed to dig up. He had one gambit left, but it would be a bit risky for him. He rang up Moneypenny. She was the perfect choice for what he had in mind.


	34. Chapter 34

It killed Q to be away when Bond got back, but there was no other way to get the whole story out of everyone involved unless all the players were present. Ultimately, it took twenty-six hours to get what they needed and get back to HQ. Moneypenny was invaluable to him, as he thought, and the person they needed most of all, the linchpin in the whole plan, was in the car with them, resigned to her fate.

Ella Campbell had hoped to keep the real truth from her daughter. As far as she had known, her father had been an inveterate gambler and ne'er do well and her mother had wanted to keep her safe. Q glanced to the seat behind him and looked upon the face of a woman with a lot on her mind. She stared out the window in the grey morning light as they made their way from her tiny Scottish village and toward London. Q faced the road ahead and thought back upon her words:

She knew they would come for her some day. Indeed, she seemed to be waiting for them when they got there. There was no conflict, no argument. There was only silent, solemn welcome and hot tea.

Her daughter was just four when the possibility came to light that her ex-husband may have been a murderer of children.

"I had been just another secretary at the Circus back when we had met," she had told them. "That's what MI6 was called back then: "the Circus". Michael was so dashing, so exciting. He offered me the world and gave me more. Our daughter came along within a year of our being married. Control himself - that would be your M now, though not the same man, obviously - he sent us a fruit basket." She had smiled at the memory. "That little girl was the apple of her father's eye, but he was away so much... and things became distant between he and I fairly fast." She had paused and looked them both in the eyes. "And then the children were discovered."

Ella had shaken her head, took a sip of her tepid tea and continued: "It was too tragic. All those little lives. All of them killed around the times that Michael was supposedly out of town. At first, they didn't think it could be him, but then they asked me about it. I told them that he would sneak home early on occasion to see our little girl. He'd delay his reporting in just to spend an extra day with her. I thought it was just him being sweet, but in the end, it was... " She had taken a ragged breath and had given them each an apologetic glance.

Moneypenny had smiled sweetly and patted her knee, encouraging her. She began again: "They took him in for questioning but could never get anything to stick. The killings continued. Everyone was at each other's throats. The Circus was in a tizzy. If I thought we were becoming distant before, I was oh-so-wrong about that after his interrogation. He became very resentful of everyone: me, MI6, everyone. Even Mr. Bell couldn't calm him. His gambling got worse and then... well, I had had enough. It wasn't good for our Rosalind to be around her father when he was like that. He granted me a divorce in '84. And Control was the one who thought it best that Rosalind and I disappear. She went into the military with a new name and I went to Scotland and into this cottage with a new life as well."

Ella had stared into the cold liquid in her cup for several seconds and said: "There were no more killings after that. It was as if the murderer felt the change as well. Strange that. It only made me more certain that Michael had perpetrated those crimes." She had raised her head and asked: "And that's why you've come, isn't it? He's been caught?"

"We have him in custody," Q had told her. "But we'd love it if you would come to London with us to help with our investigation."

She had given him a sad sweet smile that traveled to her eyes: "I would be happy to. If only to help all those children. They shouldn't suffer, you know."


	35. Chapter 35

"What did she tell you?!" yelled Morgenstern. His lips were still a bit swollen, but he could speak clearly enough. The aspirin mickey Bond had slipped him had done enough to incapacitate him to the point where he became sick and dizzy and unable to defend himself effectively. It was a simple affair to duct tape him to one of the seats in the plane like he had done to 004. Then he just flew them from the area and over toward the coast, calling for transport along the way. Once they had safely arrived at MI6, 004 was taken off into a separate interrogation room from her father. Now Michael Morgenstern was screaming his question at Q, Bond, and M while looking upon his ex-wife Ella Campbell.

The two hadn't seen each other since their break-up in 1985, but Michael knew her on sight. "What did she tell you?" he demanded again.

"A bit of what we already knew," said Q calmly. "And a bit more that we had pieced together."

"I suppose she told you that I was a ruddy child killer!" he said. It was not a question.

Q nodded and tried to ignore Bond's glance. Not now, James. Later. Q cleared his throat and continued: "She told us that the timing of your unplanned visits coincided with the deaths."

"Bollocks," Morgenstern spat. "Half those dates they told me about I was off on assignments in east Asia and South America. And the ones in Berlin?! I was never assigned to Berlin the entire time the killings occurred! They couldn't prove it was me. And neither can you."

"No," Q agreed. "We can't." He came around to stand behind Ella as she sat in the chair opposite her ex-husband at the interrogation table. The woman didn't move a muscle or say a word. She just stared forlornly at the man she once loved. "But I think you have your suspicions as to who committed those crimes, don't you?"

Morgenstern paused and looked at Ella helplessly. The woman had visibly stiffened. Q glanced from Bond to M and back to Morgenstern. "Of course, we could always ask 004 what she things of all this," said Q quietly. He leaned over to speak in Ella's ear: "It'll be good to see her after all these years, won't it, Ella. She hasn't visited you once since she went into the service, has she?"

Ella's eyes welled up and she shook her head. "She's got her own life now. And I've got a new one. It's all over. It's done."

"Ah," said Q, his voice deceptively soothing, "but it's not quite done, is it? Control was trying to help you, wasn't he? In his own way, it was a safer option to hide you both and covertly watch over you than to rip you from your child and send an executive secretary of Her Majesty's Secret Service to a sanatorium and risk national security. He didn't want you in a loony bin drugged up and raving, did he? He needed to be sure that you and Rosalind would be taken care of. Control was a good man, but he really wasn't a psychologist, was he?"

Ella began to visibly shake. Morgenstern's mouth gaped open. "How did you...?" he began.

"It was the timing and places of all the deaths. And the witness descriptions. Ms. Campbell is a tall woman and broad-shouldered, more so than the average. So when the witnesses claimed a man dressed as a woman took the children in question, it wasn't difficult to figure out once I clapped eyes on her." Q leaned over to Ella once more and said softly: "Do you want to tell us why? Or shall we guess?"


	36. Chapter 36

Ella burst into tears. "You promised me! You PROMISED!" she screamed at Morgenstern.

"Ella, I-" began Morgenstern. He sighed and looked at Q. "Please. Just talk to me. She's had enough."

Q looked from M to Bond, wondering what they wanted to do. Bond shrugged and looked at M. M was regarding Ella with a mixture of confused revulsion and curiosity. He glanced at Q and nodded. Q moved to the door and asked one of the agents to take Ms. Campbell into custody.

At first, she left quietly, but at the door, she turned suddenly and shouted: "It was all your fucking fault! If you were only home! If you weren't trying to bugger Henry when you thought I'd never know, you might still have a fucking family, you bastard!" She broke down into uncontrollable sobs and had to be carried off. M gave an order for her to be brought to medical, sedated and restrained, before he closed the door.

All three men turned to Morgenstern and waited for an explanation. He sighed. "Henry Bath and I were lovers. Back then, men didn't do such things openly. We both did the right thing by society and got married. Henry lost his wife to cancer early on, Ella and I had Rosalind. Ella had always suspected, but she never said anything to me. It was about that time that the killings had begun, but there was no seriously driven, company-wide investigation.

"Then there was the Vietnam assignment I was sent on. Took eight months. Henry met up with Ella in Berlin and she and he had words. I thank God that Rosalind was at home because things got pretty heated. A day later, kidnappings and killings spread to Berlin. Three months later, she met with Henry again in Moscow. He thought she had come to make peace, but she tried to kill him instead. Then she tried to kill herself. Bit of a wake-up call for both of us. It was only after the Moscow killings that Henry and I began to notice a pattern. We told Control immediately.

"Control was fond of Ella. She was his secretary for a time. He was awfully protective of Rosalind too. Did Ella say Control was her Godfather? He was. But how do you explain the "why" of her actions to a man who was your boss and a close friend of the family? As I said, the thing just wasn't done openly back then. There was no parades, no coming out of closets. There was only men who were men one could trust in a crisis. 

"The three of us stood in his office and talked the situation over. We came out to Control at the risk of everything. Control was upset, but he was even more concerned about our Rosalind. There was her safety to think of; Control and Henry were both concerned that Ella was hurting the girl, but I had seen no marks on her, nor any evidence that Ella had done anything but be the perfect mother to her."

Morgenstern looked at his hands and continued: "I suppose that was her great defense should anything go tits up. If she were ever accused, she could always go into crown court, hold up Rosalind to any judge and say: look here, m'lord. This is my daughter and there's not a mark on her. She's happy and healthy. Now would a killer of children do such a good job raising a child such as mine? But my husband... look at him, the degenerate. Look what a neglectful bastard he is to his own family. He's a killer of men and a gambler. And here's the worst bit, m'lord: he's a buggerer."

Morgenstern looked helplessly at all three men: "I would have been sent up on that alone, I suppose. So... Control said, "Why not?" and we hatched a plan that I was to be "questioned" and that I was to slowly separate myself from Ella through divorce, feeding into all the fantasies she had. We thought it was the right thing to do at the time. It would allow her to feel justified. It would happen over a series of years, mind. Couldn't do such a thing overnight. We were playing the long game. And we knew, that if we did it this way, Rosalind would never be harmed. She would keep her safe, happy, and healthy her whole life. And perhaps even the killings would stop."

"Why didn't you just have her arrested?" asked M. "It would have stopped the killings immediately."

Morgenstern shook his head. "No no no! It would have muddied the waters for MI6 and the country: gotten Henry and I sacked and exposed for what we were, and jeopardized the whole Vietnam mission! Not to mention the havoc it would cause politically once homosexuals were discovered at the heart of MI6. No... this was the only decent way to do any of it." Morgenstern sat up straight. "And now it's done. So... what are you going to charge me with? How many counts of murder?"


	37. Chapter 37

Rosalind Campbell waited for three hours for someone to question her. Finally M strolled in and related the story of her life to her so that no part of it could be denied. She was not surprised to hear that Morgenstern was her father, long presumed dead. Nor was she surprised about her mother being located and brought in as help in the investigation; once she had joined the military, she was glad to be on her own and out from under her mother's thumb. For all her faults, Rosalind valued Ella as a mother, but after twenty or so years of being loved to death, she was done. And she never looked back.

When she chose to remember her mother, she was somehow always repulsed by the idea of seeing her again. It went that way for several years and three tours of duty. By then MI6 was calling and she joined up there. Instantly, her life became a whirlwind of secrets and espionage and there was simply no time for mothers or motherly love. She was an assassin now. That was her life. And her doting mother was best kept out of it.

Rosalind was surprised to hear about the surveillance Control had set up after her father had left them. And she was very surprised to hear that her mother was a killer - at least, she was surprised to hear that from M. She was expecting to sit through the ramblings of Morgenstern and another of his stuttered explanations of who he is to her and why things panned out the way they did and how proud he was of her and did he know how her mum was? It was revolting. But to hear the straight story from M himself was a revelation of facts that she sat through and absorbed in stunned silence.

"It can't be true," she whispered at last, a solitary tear falling down her face.

M replied: "I'm afraid it is."

"And so she's going to jail?" asked 004.

"She's going to be evaluated, but most likely she'll be sent to a mental facility where she'll be detained. Your father is going away too. Conspiracy. He knew about the killings and while he didn't do anything to prevent them from happening, his actions weren't immediate."

004 nodded slowly. "Where does that leave me?"

"On personal leave," said M, "with pay."

"I see," said 004.

"We'll sort it all out, Rosalind," said M placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She smiled her thanks to him weakly through her tears.


	38. Chapter 38

The door to the sub-basement flat closed behind them and "well that was tedious" was all Q managed to say before Bond covered his mouth with his own. Their mouths moved apart and their tongues slid against one another as they allowed the taste of each other to mingle; the feel of each other's bodies against one another after so long apart was intoxicating.

When the kiss finally broke, they breathed into each other's mouths for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. "My Goeffrey," whispered Bond. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"For what?" asked Q, his head light from the kiss, "Murphy?"

Bond shook his head. "Murphy deserved what he got," he said bitterly.

"True," said Q, "but you still didn't tell me what you did."

"I was hoping never to," said Bond.

"So what are you apologizing for?" asked Q.

"For Morgenstern," said Bond. "Surely you got 004's report on what happened." He looked sad, regretful.

"Let me understand you," said Q slowly, "You're asking me to forgive you... for getting raped?"

"You knew it was rape, then?" asked Bond. Q saw a flash of little-boy-lost in Bond's eyes that broke his heart and frightened him to death at the same time. "Because all I could do was think about you. All I could do was focus on your face, pretend it was you... call your name-" Bond's breath hitched. He was on the verge of tears.

Q cut him off with another kiss, this one sweet and tender, full of all the love he had in his heart for the man. Q felt the wet heat of Bond's tears hit his face as the man kissed him through his sobbing. The kiss turned desperate and bruising. Q gripped Bond as tightly as he could and Bond clung to Q for dear life, their bodies pushing against one another in order to be as close to each other as humanly possible while still wearing clothing. Q felt himself crying in turn. He was so happy to have Bond home and in his arms, it was overwhelming.

Q let his hand go everywhere: hair, neck, back, buttocks, hips, thighs, stomach, chest, and back to the neck, until his hands cupped Bond's face. He pulled the agent's face from his own in order to look him in the eye. Their breath came in pants and Q saw that Bond was clearly upset: his eyes were swelling with tears and were filled with an infinite sadness that made Q's heart burst and break and swell and burst and break again. Q pressed their foreheads together and said, "NEVER apologize for being violated, James. He had you at a disadvantage. And you couldn't have seen it coming. This was NOT your fault."

The look of gratitude that came over Bond was breathtaking. The two of them stood and cried with each other. "You are beautiful," said Q. "And you are mine. And no one is going to hurt you like that again. Not if I have anything to do with it. But damn it, James. What happened was NOT your fault. Do you hear me?"

James nodded, pressed his face to Geoffrey's neck and sobbed openly. Every ounce of inner strength he had left was gone. He was lost to his own guilt and pain. He was an agent of MI6. He had suspected he would be drugged, if only for Morgenstern to make his escape. He was expecting that. What he was not expecting was the violation of his own body. There was no explanation for that. Morgenstern never supplied one and M never charged him with the crime. And up until now, Bond was having a pretty successful time of suppressing the event. Perhaps all parties involved hoped it would stay under the rug. But nothing lasts forever. It would have to be dealt with some time.

Now was not that time. Bond sank into Q's gentle grip and crushed the man to him as he wept. He hadn't cried like that since his parents died: with wild abandon and loud wailing.

Q could do nothing but hold him. James was so precious to him. Q cradled the back of his head with one hand and rubbed along his back soothingly, not saying a word. There was nothing to be said. It was done. It was over. The question remained, however: Did Bond want to press charges against Morgenstern? Would his pride take something like that? To admit to participating in homosexual activity with a target was one thing, but for an agent to come out and accuse said target of drugging and raping him? Could someone like James Bond ever allow himself to be looked upon by society the way it would? And in the end, would it be worth it?

Q didn't have any answers. He figured they could work it out in the morning. Right now, Geoffrey needed to focus on James and take care of his love.


	39. Chapter 39

"Come with me, love," said Q. He took Bond by the hand and led him to the sofa. He sat the man down and started a fire in the grate. Then he sat beside Bond and reclined, opening his arms to welcome Bond into a cuddle. Bond moved over him gratefully. Once he was laying with his head on Q's chest and Q had draped the blanket over them that had rested on the back of the sofa, Bond sighed audibly.

"I don't..." began Bond.

"What is it?" Q asked softly, stroking his fingertips through James' hair, his other hand smoothing over the arm and shoulder Bond had wrapped around his chest. Q kissed the top of Bond's forehead and waited for him to answer.

"I don't want..." Bond began again. "Who knows about Morgenstern and me?"

"Just Moneypenny, M, and myself. And Tanner too," said Q. "Why?"

James lifted his head. From the look on his face, Q could see that he was clearly still upset over the whole situation. "I don't want anyone else to know."

Q's hands stilled. "Are you sure?" he asked carefully. "It's your choice, of course, but it clearly upsets yo-"

"No one is to know, Geoffrey," said Bond, cutting him off in mid-sentence and glaring at him. "And that's an end to it."

"And you'll just deal with it, will you?" asked Q.

"Yes," said Bond and he placed his head resolutely back on Q's chest.

"Hard man," whispered Q. Several minutes went by and Q's hands resumed their soothing ministrations; his kiss found Bond's hair and forehead once more. "I love you too, you know."

"What?" said Bond, lifting up his head once more.

"With all my heart," said Q, smiling at him.

"What do you mean "too"?" Bond asked. "I never-"

"Yes you did," said Q. "But it was not to me directly."

"What are you talking about?" asked Bond.


	40. Chapter 40

Q explained gently, understandingly, about the video footage. James sat bolt upright for a moment's time before bolting toward the toilet to be sick. Q made his way to the doorway of the bathroom and waited, leaning up against the door frame. He didn't know what to do. Should he go to James and comfort him? Should he offer words of consolation? Should he just leave him to sit on the cold floor and recover on his own? Bond didn't want anyone to mention his rape ever again, that much was clear. But Q knew that something useful had to be done to help James. He couldn't just ignore it and move on. This wasn't a bullet hole that would heal up but leave a scar. This was different.

Q didn't want to screw this up. He must have been standing there deciding too long because he heard James say: "Don't do that. It'll make it bleed." He looked up at James and saw the man point at his own lips and then to Q. Q had been chewing on his bottom lip, worrying the flesh there. Q stopped and gave a sheepish grin.

"Alright?" he asked Bond.

Bond rose from the floor in one elegant motion and moved to the sink to brush his teeth. "I really don't think I am, Geoffrey," he said as he applied the paste to the brush.

"All the more reason to deal with this," said Q. "No one with any sense is going to blame you for any of this. I hope you realize that."

"I just can't believe there's fucking video feed of it," Bond said around a mouthful of toothpaste. He spit it out and said: "Let me guess, 004 is in on this as well."

"She thinks it was all part of the mission," said Q. "She heard and saw a bit more than she filmed and heard you say my name during... well, during. She heard you tell "Geoffrey" that you loved him. She told me that herself. Said she was confused by that because she knew the target's first name was Michael."

Bond was silent at this. He stared at his own reflection in the mirror for some time before responding. "That's just as well then," he said. "She's got enough to worry about what with both of her parents in jail and all."

"Indeed," agreed Q. He continued to stare at Bond who continued to stare at his reflection.

Finally Bond broke the silence: "All I want to know is why."

Q shook his head. "You can ask Morgenstern if you want, but I'm pretty sure his answer won't mean much," he said. "Usually these things are all about power, not sex."

"I still feel like there's something I could have done," Bond whispered. Q saw him shiver.

"Come to bed, James," said Q. "You need rest. And I need you in my arms. We can deal with this tomorrow."

It wasn't the perfect solution. That could only come with time and effort. Q knew that he had a lot of pride when it came to his personal self. If these past few months had taught him anything is that his pride could take a serious hit and still come out swinging. He was sure James Bond could do the same. After all, the man was a double-oh. And he had the greatest taste in boyfriends.

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to all my patient readers out there!
> 
> There is a third story in the series on the way! Stay with me!


End file.
